OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 


Uniform  in  Style  and  Character 
with  "Oh!  Mary  Be  Careful" 

THE  ROSE-GARDEN  HUSBAND 

BY  MARGARET  WIDDEMER 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  WALTER  BIGGS 

gi.oo  net 

"One  loves  to  read  it,  then  pass  it  on  to  others." 

— Dixie  Home  Magazine. 

"A  sparkling,  rippling  little  tale." — New  York  Times. 
"Whimsical  in  its  humor." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"The  beauty  and  strangeness  that  go  to  make 
romance  are  combined  in  this  little  tale." 

' — Boston  Transcript. 

"It  is  that  rarity — a  story  that  can  be  taken  home 
without  any  misgivings  and  placed  in  the  hands  of 
growing  children  or  adults;  they  will  all  profit." 

— Portland  Oregonian. 


AND    THEN,     SIMPLY     BECAUSE    HE    COVLDX  T    HELP    IT    ANY    LONGER, 
HE    FOUND   HIMSELF   LOOKING   DEEPLY    INTO   MARY's   EYES 

Page  169 


OH,  MARY, 
BE  CAREFUL! 


BY 

GEORGE  WESTON 


WITH  SEVEN  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  R.  If.  CROSBY 


PHILADELPHIA  AND  LONDON 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1917 


COPYRIGHT,  I9l6,  DT  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANT 
COPTBIGHT,  1917,  BT  J.  B.  L.IPPINCOTT  COMPANT 


PUBLISHED   JAXUABY,  1917 

REPRINTED    FEBRUARY,    IQ1J 

REPRINTED  MAKCH,   IQI7 


PBINTED   BT   J.   B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANT 
AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA,  U.  8.  A. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  AFFECTIONATELY 
DEDICATED    TO    MY    MOTHER 

a.  w. 


2138752 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

AND  THEN,  SIMPLY  BECAUSE  HE  COULDN'T  HELP  IT 
ANT  LONGER,  HE  FOUND  HIMSELF  LOOKING 
DEEPLY  INTO  MARY'S  EYES Frontispiece 

"WHY  MARY  SHOULDN'T  MARRY"  WAS  THE  PROMIS- 
ING TITLE,  WRITTEN  IN  Miss  MYRA'S  SPIDERY 
HANDWRITING 40 

"You  Do  LOOK  SWEET  TO-NIGHT,"  WHISPERED 
WILLIAM.  "LISTEN,"  SAID  MARY.  "ISN'T  THAT 
BEAUTIFUL?  " 72 

"On,  DEAR!"  SHE  THOUGHT  IN  SUDDEN  ALARM, 

"WHAT'S  HE  DOING  THAT  FOR?" 83 

"JusT  LOOK  AT  THIS  GREAT,  SULKY  THING  HEBE, 
His  BOTTOM  LIP  STUCK  OUT  TILL  HE  NEARLY 
STEPS  ON  IT." 100 

"MARY,"  HE  SAID  IN  A  Low  VOICE,  "LISTEN!  I 
WANT  TO  WHISPER  SOMETHING." 137 

THE  JUDGE  WENT  TO  THE  SAFE  AND  TOOK  FROM  IT 
AN  ENVELOPE  ADDRESSED  IN  Miss  MYRA'S 
SPIDERY  HANDWRITING...  .  170 


JUST  A  MOMENT,  PLEASE! 

SUPPOSE  that  you  had  been  in  Mary 
Meacham's  place,  what  (I  wonder) 
would  you  have  done! 

Let  us  say  that  you  are  married. 
And  suppose  that  just  before  the  ring 
had  been  placed  upon  your  finger,  you 
had  been  led  to  a  cashier's  desk,  and  the 
cashier  had  said,  "  This  will  cost  you 
fifty  thousand  dollars — cash  down  in 
advance,  please!" 

Would  you  have  paid  it? 

Or  suppose  someone  had  come  to  you 
at  the  proper  time,  saying,  "  Here's  a 
man  who  wants  to  marry  you.  Look 
at  him.  And  here's  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars in  cash.  You  can  take  your  choice, 
but  you  can't  have  both !  " 

Which  would  you  have  taken — the 
money  or  the  man? 

9 


JUST  A  MOMENT,  PLEASE! 

Or  let  us  say  you  aren't  married. 
You  are  attractive,  you  are  accom- 
plished, you  like  the  good  things  of  life. 
You  also  know  the  value  of  money,  the 
value  of  financial  independence.  Sup- 
pose, then,  that  somebody  comes  to  you 
to-morrow  and  says :  "  My  dear  young 
lady,  I  will  pay  you  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars— here,  count  it  out  for  yourself — 
provided  you  will  promise  me  never 
to  marry! " 

Would  you  take  the  money? 
Wouldn't  you?  Are  you  very  sure  you 
wouldn't? 

So  much  for  the  ladies. 

A  word,  now,  to  the  gentlemen. 

Sir,  suppose  at  your  demise  (which 
Heaven  postpone  as  long  as  is  humanly 
possible!)  you  leave  a  daughter  with 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  you  know 
she  will  lose  every  cent  of  it  if  she  mar- 
ries. Knowing  mankind  as  well  as  you 

do,  would  you  advise  your  daughter 
10 


JUST  A  MOMENT,  PLEASE  I 

to  give  up  that  fifty  thousand  dollars 
for  a  husband? 

In  this  way,  I  have  tried  to  give  you 
an  idea  of  only  one  of  the  problems 
which  were  suddenly  placed  before  a 
girl  I  know,  whose  name  was  Mary 
Meacham. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you  her  story. 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

CHAPTER  I 

MARY  MEACHAM  lived  with  her  Aunt 
Myra  in  the  big,  white  house  on  the  top 
of  Black  Hill,  where  the  Meachams 
have  lived  for  over  two  hundred  years. 

If  you  are  ever  in  our  part  of  Eastern 
Connecticut,  you  will  know  the  Mea- 
cham  house  when  you  see  it;  first,  be- 
cause it  commands  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  views  in  New  England,  and, 
second,  because  it  has  a  knocker  on  the 
front  door — a  knocker  made  of  brass 
and  fashioned  in  the  shape  of  an  eagle. 

Day  and  night  this  eagle  looks  down 
the  road  and  over  the  valley.  It  is  per- 
petually poised  as  though  for  flight,  its 
claws  full  of  arrows,  its  glance  menac- 
ing and  grim. 

When   I   first   saw  it  as  a  boy   I 
is 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

thought  to  myself:  "  I'll  bet  he's  look- 
ing for  Miss  Myra's  beau,  the  one  that 
ran  away  and  never  came  back." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Miss  Myra's  beau,  this  story  would 
never  have  been  written. 

So  first,  I  must  tell  you  about  Miss 
Myra's  beau. 

The  misadventure  of  Miss  Myra  and 
her  beau  happened  long  before  my  time, 
but  I've  often  heard  my  mother  tell 
about  it.  In  her  youth  Miss  Myra  was 
considered  the  most  beautiful  girl  be- 
tween Boston  and  Hartford.  She  was 
an  orphan,  rich,  accomplished,  had  been 
abroad  and  held  her  head  uncom- 
monly high. 

As  you  can  easily  imagine  from  that, 
her  engagement  to  the  dashing  Captain 
Pemberton  was  a  highly  satisfactory 
source  of  conversation. 

The  house  on  Black  Hill  was  filled 
with  dressmakers  and  their  assistants, 

14 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

working  early  and  late  on  the  trousseau. 
The  day  drew  near ;  the  presents  began 
to  arrive;  the  church  was  decorated; 
the  refreshments  were  ordered;  and 
then — two  days  before  the  wedding  was 
to  take  place — the  dashing  Captain 
Pemberton  took  it  into  his  foolish,  fickle 
head  to  run  away  with  another  lady; 
and  Miss  Myra  suddenly  found  herself 
with  all  the  elements  of  a  wedding  on 
her  hands — with  the  rather  important 
exception  of  a  bridegroom. 

As  you  can  well  believe,  it  was  no 
light  matter  for  the  proud  Miss  Myra. 

I  can  picture  her  now  (and  so,  I 
think,  can  you)  running  the  whole 
alphabet  of  emotion  which,  in  a  case  of 
this  kind,  starts  with  "A"  for  "  I-Don't- 
Believe-It"  and  ends  with  "Z"  for 
"  Hysterics." 

Poor  Miss  Myra! 

The  dressmakers  were  dismissed,  the 
trousseau  was  burned.  "  For  nearly  a 

15 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

week,"  my  mother  told  me,  "  you  could 
smell  cloth  burning  whenever  you  went 
past  the  house  " ;  the  presents  were  sent 
back,  the  decorations  taken  down  from 
the  church,  the  refreshments  counter- 
manded, and  the  blinds  drawn  down 
at  all  the  windows  of  the  big  white 
house  on  the  hill. 

A  woman  of  less  pride  would  prob- 
ably have  sold  her  property  and  moved 
away. 

But  not  Miss  Myra! 

She  stayed  in  Plainfield — prcud, 
haughty,  aloof;  and,  as  the  years  went 
by,  it  isn't  altogether  astonishing  that 
she  grew  somewhat  caustic  in  her  wit, 
somewhat  thin  in  her  person,  and  most 
profoundly  contemptuous  of  that  sex 
of  the  human  family  which  occasionally 
likes  to  refer  to  itself  as  the  "  Lords 
of  Creation." 

Indeed  I  think  she  might  have  been 
entirely  consumed  in  her  own  acidity, 

16 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

if  she  hadn't  kept  her  mind  occupied 
by  her  Scrapbooks. 

1  want  to  tell  you  about  those  Scrap- 
books.    They  were  really  very  rich. 

One  day,  not  long  after  she  had 
burned  her  trousseau,  Miss  Myra 
chanced  to  read  in  a  Boston  paper  about 
another  case  somewhat  like  her  own. 

She  cut  the  story  out  and  pasted  it 
in  a  Scrapbook. 

A  few  days  later  she  read  in  another 
paper  about  a  breach-of -promise  suit. 

She  cut  that  out,  too,  and  into  her 
Scrapbook  it  went. 

These  two  cases,  side  by  side,  gave 
her  a  remarkable  idea.  She  subscribed 
to  the  leading  papers  throughout  the 
country,  and  every  day  she  scanned 
them  through  for  stories  of  domestic 
difficulties ;  these  were  carefully  clipped 
out  and  pasted  in  the  Scrapbook,  each 
with  a  few  lines  of  scathing  criticism 
written  underneath. 

2  17 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

The  first  book  was  soon  filled  and 
another  started,  and  before  many  years 
they  had  filled  a  whole  shelf  in  the 
library  and  had  started  upon  the  one 
below. 

Drawing  upon  that  caustic  wit  which 
I  have  already  mentioned,  Miss  Myra 
had  her  Scrapbooks  bound  in  sheepskin, 
and,  in  addition  to  the  volume  number, 
the  back  of  each  book  bore  this  title: 

"  Man.  His  Love  and  His  Honor. 
With  Illustrations." 

In  this  eccentric  way  Miss  Myra  oc- 
cupied her  mind,  living  with  two  maids 
in  that  big  house  on  top  of  Black  Hill, 
watching  the  sunset  from  her  sitting- 
room  window  (as  I  have  seen  her,  many 
and  many  a  time)  with  an  air  of  wistful 
imperiousness,  and  guarded  always  by 
that  eagle  on  her  door — that  eagle  which 
never  seemed  to  take  its  eyes  off  the 
road  below  but  kept  itself  poised  as 

18 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

though  for  flight,  its  claws  full  of  ar- 
rows, its  glance  menacing  and  grim. 

Thus  she  lived  for  many  years,  and 
then  a  Circumstance  arose,  so  innocent 
in  its  appearance,  yet  so  far-reaching 
in  its  influence  on  many  a  human 
being,  both  born  and  unborn,  that  I 
feel  I  ought  to  tell  you  about  it  before 
we  go  any  farther. 

Living  in  an  obscure  village  of  Con- 
necticut— a  place  so  wretched  that  they 
called  it  Tadpole — was  a  poor  Meacham 
named  Joe.  Joe  was  a  third  cousin  of 
Miss  Myra's — that  is  to  say,  Miss 
Myra's  grandfather  and  Joe's  grand- 
father had  been  first  cousins. 

Joe  Meacham  was  a  shiftless  sort  of 
a  happy-go-lucky — one  of  those  men 
who  always  seem  to  have  a  patient, 
hard-working  wife.  Indeed  Mrs.  Mea- 
cham was  the  bread-winner  of  the  fam- 
ily, doing  odd  chores  wherever  she 

19 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

could,  and  yet  thinking  the  sun  never 
set  on  her  lazy  scamp  of  a  husband,  who 
was  a  great  hand  with  the  accordion 
and  liked  to  sit  in  the  sun  and  play 
prodigiously  long  pieces  of  dance  music. 
And  when  he  was  tired  of  playing  he 
would  tilt  back  in  his  chair,  the  accor- 
dion resting  on  his  knee,  a  corncob  pipe 
in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  tell  what 
a  great  family  the  Meachams  were,  and 
how  he  himself  ought  to  be  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Meacham  property  at  that 
very  minute,  if  his  great-grandfather — 
a  poor,  simple  fool!  —  hadn't  been 
cheated  out  of  his  rights.  Whereupon 
he  would  fill  his  pipe  again  and  play 
"Asleep  in  the  Deep,"  with  such  a  trem- 
ulous depth  of  bass  that  tears  would 
come  to  his  poor  wife's  eyes,  and  pres- 
ently she  would  run  outside  and  scold 
the  hens  if  they  hadn't  laid  a  couple  of 
eggs  for  her  husband's  supper. 

Out  of  this  union  a  baby  girl  was 
20 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

born  one  winter,  and,  because  Mrs. 
Meacham  was  weak  from  living  too  ex- 
clusively on  a  diet  of  music  and  tobacco 
smoke,  she  died  the  day  after  the  baby 
was  born.  And,  because  her  husband 
was  helpless  when  left  to  himself,  he 
was  taken  down  with  pneumonia  the 
following  month. 

An  old  neighbor,  Dame  Ellison,  went 
in  to  look  after  him,  and  thereby  had 
the  whole  family  on  her  hands,  because 
she  was  already  taking  care  of  the  baby. 

The  Dame  told  me  these  details  her- 
self, one  day  last  summer,  standing  in 
the  grass  near  her  well,  resting  her 
weight  on  a  homemade  walking  stick — 
a  fine,  old  woman,  full  of  years  and  dig- 
nity, with  a  face  like  an  Indian's  peer- 
ing from  under  the  arch  of  her  sun- 
bonnet. 

"  Long  toward  the  end,"  said  Dame 
Ellison,  "  he  came  to  himself  one  morn- 
ing and  asked  after  the  baby.  '  Hattie,' 
21 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL 

says  he  to  me,  '  you  take  my  accordion 
to  Tom  Brown  and  he'll  give  you  a  dol- 
lar for  it,  if  he  don't  give  you  any  more. 
And  when  you  get  the  money,'  says  he, 
'  you  wash  the  baby  and  fix  it  up  as 
pretty  as  you  can,  and  take  the  train  to 
Plainfield.  You  get  off  there  and  ask 
for  Miss  Meacham  of  Black  Hill,'  says 
he.  *  It's  a  big,  white  house  with  a 
fountain  in  front  and  a  brass  rooster  on 
the  door,  and  ought  to  have  belonged  to 
me  if  my  great-grandfather — the  poor, 
simple  fool! — hadn't  been  cheated  out 
of  his  rights. 

*  Anyway,'  says  he,  '  you  ask  for 
Miss  Meacham,  and  give  her  the  baby, 
and  tell  her  my  grandfather's  grand- 
father was  the  same  as  hers — General 
Meacham  who  fit  against  the  British  on 
Long  Island;  and  tell  her  the  baby  is 
the  last  of  the  Meachams  as  far  as  I 
know,  and  tell  her  my  time  has  come 
and  the  baby  has  nobody,  and  she  can 

22 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

either  bring  it  up  or  put  it  in  a  home, 
or  do  whatever  she  thinks  best.' 

'  Well,  sir,  I  took  the  accordion,  just 
as  he  said,  and  when  Tom  Brown  heard 
what  was  going  on  he  gave  me  two  dol- 
lars for  it — which  is  Tom  Brown  all 
over — and  him  not  able  to  play  a  tune 
on  a  comb  and  paper.  So  I  washed  the 
baby  and  dressed  it  up  as  pretty  as  I 
could,  using  some  of  the  things  that 
had  been  laying  in  my  trunk  for  over 
twenty  years,  ever  since  my  own  little 
girl  died. 

"  And  sure  enough,  when  I  got  to 
Plainfield  they  told  me  how  to  get  to 
Black  Hill,  and  sure  enough  there  was 
the  big  house  just  as  Joe  Meacham  said 
it  would  be,  with  an  iron  fountain  in 
a  box  hedge  and  a  brass  rooster  on  the 
front  door.  But  me,  I  went  around  to 
the  back,  because  I  don't  thank  any- 
body to  come  around  to  my  front  door 
in  the  winter  when  the  cracks  are 

23 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

stuffed  with  paper,  and  a  bit  of  dough 
stuck  up  against  the  keyhole  to  keep 
the  cold  out." 

At  this,  Dame  Ellison  gave  me  a 
sharply  inquiring  glance  from  under  the 
flap  of  her  sunbonnet,  and  I  nodded  in 
appreciation  of  her  thoughtfulness. 

'  Yes,  sir! "  she  exclaimed,  nodding 
her  head  too ;  "  and  so  I  got  to  the 
kitchen,  where  I  found  a  couple  of 
dressed-up  la-de-das  peelin'  'taters — 
dressed  in  black  as  fine  as  you  please, 
and  one  of  'em  had  a  white  scar  'cross 
her  cheek.  She  hadn't  spoke  two  words 
when  I  see  she  was  French,  come  down 
from  Canady  like  most  of  'em  do.  I 
told  her  I  wanted  to  see  Miss  Meacham, 
and  after  she  had  pumped  me  and  found 
the  well  was  dry,  I  was  showed  into  a 
sitting  room  with  that  precious  baby 
laying  in  my  arms  as  good  as  gold. 

"  Pretty  soon  in  come  a  grand  lady 
with  gray  hair  and  black  eyebrows,  and 

24 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

such  a  pair  of  eyes  in  her  head  that  I, 
for  one,  would  think  a  long  time  before 
trying  to  play  any  tricks  on  her.  I  told 
her  my  story,  and  she  looked  at  the  baby 
as  if  she'd  never  seen  one  before. 

"  'It's  a  fine  child  for  its  age,  ma'am,' 
says  I,  '  you  weigh  it  and  see.'  I  held 
it  toward  her,  and  her  arms  came  out 
for  it  as  natural  as  a  squirrel  cracks 
nuts.  It  was  a  pretty  baby,  if  ever 
there  was  one — big  shiny  eyes  and 
cheeks  like  red  apples — and  when  Miss 
Meacham  looked  down  at  it,  that  blessed 
baby  smiled  and  closed  its  eyes  and 
snuggled  its  little  head  against  her  bo- 
som, and  I  see  Miss  Meacham's  heart 
swell  under  her  waist,  the  same  as  a 
robin  swells  its  throat  when  it  feels  it's 
got  to  sing  for  a  spell  or  bust. 

"'Ah-ha!'  says  I  to  mysedf,  '  tihat 
baby's  going  to  stay  here  or  I  miss  my 
guess.'  And  so  it  did,  and  a  blessing, 
too,  seeing  that  Joe  Meacham  followed 

25 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

his  wife  the  very  next  week,  and  his  last 
words  to  me  were,  '  Hattie,'  says  he, 
'  it's  a  funny  thing/  says  he,  '  but  my 
little  Mary's  living  right  at  the  place 
where  she  ought  to  have  been  born,'  says 
he,  *  if  my  great-grandfather — the  poor, 
simple  fool! — hadn't  been  cheated  out 
of  his  rights!' 

And  so  Mary  Meacham  went  to  live 
at  the  house  on  the  hill.  It  didn't  take 
many  years  to  show  that  she  was  going 
to  grow  into  a  beauty;  and  that  was  the 
time,  I  believe,  when  Miss  Myra  con- 
ceived the  plan  which  later  bore  such 
unexpected  results. 

However  that  may  be,  all  accounts 
agree  that  Mary  was  brought  up  to  have 
nothing  except  contempt  for  every  liv- 
ing creature  that  dressed  itself  in  trou- 
sers and  talked  in  tenor  or  bass. 

Roughly  speaking,  Miss  Myra  di- 
vided the  gentlemen  into  two  great 

26 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

classes:  the  fools  and  the  knaves.  If 
a  man  didn't  fit  in  with  one  of  these 
groups,  he  was  automatically  classed 
with  the  other. 

You  can  be  sure,  too,  that  when 
Mary's  education  had  been  completed  by 
a  four  years'  course  at  Miss  Dana's  Sem- 
inary for  Young  Ladies  at  Hartford, 
and  she  returned  home  to  live  with  her 
aunt,  it  wasn't  long  before  she  was  initi- 
ated into  the  mysteries  of  the  Scrap- 
books,  which  were  used  to  point  many  a 
moral,  to  adorn  many  a  tale.  By  that 
time  the  Scrapbooks  had  reached  over 
thirty  volumes,  and  took  up  a  large 
sheepskin  space  on  the  library  shelves,  a 
warning  space  which  always  seemed  to 
be  saying:  "  Oh,  Mary,  beware  of  manl 
Oh,  Mary,  be  careful!  " 

And  now  I  have  a  secret  to  tell  you, 
a  secret  so  great  that  I  must  whisper 
it  for  the  present,  although  a  little  later 

27 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

you  will  hear  enough  about  it,  I  can 
promise  you!  So,  first  looking  around 
with  the  greatest  caution,  I  am  going 
to  whisper  to  you  that  Mary  didn't 
share  Miss  Myra's  views  at  all! 

Mind  you,  she  didn't  contradict  her 
aunt — oh,  no! — and  she  didn't  argue 
with  her — not  for  a  moment! — and 
when  Miss  Myra  started  on  one  of  her 
tirades  against  Man,  Mary  would 
listen  with  a  bland  expression  which 
looked  as  much  like  enjoyment  as  any- 
thing else.  But,  strictly  on  the  quiet, 
Mary  thought  the  men  weren't  half  so 
black  as  Miss  Myra  painted  them. 

In  the  first  place,  perhaps  Miss  Myra 
rather  overdid  her  teaching;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  perhaps  Mary  felt  like 
Mrs.  Bluebeard — the  more  she  was  told 
not  to  do  it,  the  more  she  felt  like  open- 
ing the  forbidden  door.  But  I,  who 
know  her  well  and  have  thought  it  over, 

28 


OH,  MAEY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

am  more  inclined  to  the  theory  of  Mani- 
fest Destiny. 

Mary,  I  think,  was  made  to  love  and 
be  loved,  and  she  couldn't  help  it  any 
more  than  she  could  help  the  blue  in 
her  eyes  or  the  charm  of  her  smile. 

She  was  just  naturally  the  sort  of  a 
girl  who  needs  a  man  in  her  life. 

Moreover,  as  she  grew  up,  she  thought 
that  here  and  there  she  could  discern 
a  masculine  figure  in  history  who  wasn't 
quite  so  bad  as  he  might  have  been. 

There  was  William  Tell,  for  instance; 
and  Washington,  and  surely  where  were 
one  or  two,  there  might  be  others. 

Yes,  and  whenever  Mary  went  on 
errands  to  Plainfield  she  derived  an  in- 
definable sense  of  satisfaction  at  the 
glances  of  admiration  which  the  young 
men  cast  in  her  direction. 

And,  although  she  appeared  to  be 
quite  unconscious  of  those  glances,  she 

29 


Oft,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

didn't  miss  one  of  them  but  took  them 
home,  and  thought  about  them,  and 
dreamed  about  them,  even  when  she  was 
apparently  listening  to  one  of  Aunt 
Myra's  disquisitions  against  Man,  or 
was  helping  with  the  Scrapbooksl 


CHAPTER  II 

THUS  Mary  grew  up,  most  delight- 
fully in  love  with  life  and  crowned  with 
youth  and  beauty.  She  loved  her  Aunt 
Myra,  and  she  loved  that  old  Colonial 
house  on  Black  Hill,  where  the  Mea- 
chams  had  lived  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years.  She  loved  the  fields 
that  led  to  the  river.  She  loved  the 
library  with  its  open  fireplace  and  cozy 
chairs.  Yes,  all  the  good  things  of  life 
our  Mary  loved,  including  those  lace 
and  linen  mysteries  which  a  man  knows 
nothing  about,  and  those  silk  and  satin 
confections  which  are  sweet  to  every  eye. 
In  short,  she  had  everything  she  wanted 
— with  one  exception,  and  that  excep- 
tion is  the  one  which  I  have  just  men- 
tioned. 

To  use  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  word, 

she  had  no  suitors, 
si 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Or,  in  a  homelier  phrase  which  I 
much  prefer,  she  had  no  beaul 

"  Never  mind,  though,"  Mary  would 
think.  "  It  won't  always  be  this  way. 
I  can  wait.  And  I'd  rather  die  than 
do  anything  to  upset  Aunt  Myra !  " 

And  so  she  reached  her  twenty-first 
year,  and  never  had  a  young  man  call 
upon  her,  or  see  her  home,  or  tell  her  he 
had  dreamed  about  her  the  night  before, 
or  whisper  similar  nonsense  in  her  ear.  I 
have  mentioned  her  twenty-first  year  be- 
cause that  was  the  year  when  Miss  Myra 
suddenly  took  to  her  bed  with  the  same 
determination  which  marked  her  every 
action;  and,  after  a  short  illness,  she 
called  Mary  one  night,  whispered  that 
Judge  Adams  had  her  will,  kissed  her, 
and  then  closed  her  eyes  for  the  last 
time  on  a  world  which  love  had  made 
bitter,  on  a  life  that  pride  had  made  sad. 

"  Mary  sent  for  me  as  soon  as  it  hap- 
pened," said  old  Dame  Ellison,  "and 

32 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

over  I  went.  Miss  Myra  lay  with  a 
smile  on  her  face — the  first  I  had  ever 
seen  there — and  I  said  to  myself  later, 
when  I  heard  about  it:  *  No  wonder 
you  smiled,  my  lady.  You  were  think- 
ing about  your  will.' ' 

Poor  Mary!  I  well  remember  how 
everybody  in  Plainfield  talked  when 
they  heard  about  that  will.  Under  its 
provisions  Mary  received  the  house  on 
the  hill,  the  twelve  hundred  acres  of 
land  surrounding  it,  and  the  sum  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  which  was  in- 
vested in  good  farm  mortgages  and 
brought  in  an  income  of  about  three 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  These  were 
all  to  go  to  Mary,  but  not  till  she  was 
fifty  years  old  and  only  then  provided 
she  had  never  married.  In  the  mean- 
time she  was  to  live  in  the  house  and 
receive  the  interest  of  the  money.  But 
if  she  ever  allowed  herself  to  be  led  to 

the  altar,  she  was  straightway  to  lose 
s  ss 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  money,  which  was  to  go  to  the 
Penobscot  Home  for  Feeble-Minded 
Girls,  and  upon  her  death  the  house 
was  to  go  to  the  same  appropriate  in- 
stitution. 

Such  was  Miss  Myra's  will. 

At  first  I  doubt  if  Mary  thought 
about  it  a  great  deal.  Her  grief  at  Miss 
Myra's  death  was  too  deep;  her  loss 
was  too  recent.  Gradually,  though,  the 
days  became  weeks,  and  the  weeks  be- 
came months.  Then  Mary's  mind  be- 
gan to  shift  from  the  past  to  the  future ; 
but,  no  matter  in  which  direction  her 
thoughts  turned,  they  always  came 
sooner  or  later  to  Miss  Myra's  will, 
which  stood  like  a  spectre  between  her- 
self and  her  dreams  of  life. 

"  If  I  marry,"  she  thought,  "  I  lose 
everything,  and  that  would  be  awful. 
And,  if  I  don't  marry,  I  shall  be  a 
lonely  old  maid  like  dear  Aunt  Myra, 
and  that  would  be  awful  too  I  Oh,  dear  1 

34 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

what  shall  I  do?  "  But  that,  alas!  was 
the  very  question  which  Mary  had  to 
answer  for  herself.  "  If  I  marry,"  she 
thought,  "  I  lose  everything " — this 
part,  you  see,  was  very  clear — "  and 
what  do  I  get  in  exchange?  "  Where- 
upon her  eyes  fell  upon  those  shelves  of 
Scrapbooks,  each  bound  in  its  sheepskin 
and  each  entitled:  "Man.  His  Love 
and  His  Honor.  With  Illustrations." 

"  Oh,  dear  I "  sighed  Mary  again, 
"what  shaU  I  do?" 

She  did  what  nearly  everyone  else 
would  have  done — she  postponed  the 
decision  and  tried  to  forget  the  question. 
"  I'll  settle  down  comfortably  for  a 
while,"  she  told  herself,  "  and  read  all 
the  good  books  in  the  library." 

But  nearly  all  the  good  books,  it 
seemed,  had  some  sort  of  love  story  in 
them  and  Mary  often  found  herself 
thinking:  "  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  have 
a  beau  like  thatl "  or  "  I  wonder  if  any 

85 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

man  would  do  that  for  me!"  or  "I 
wonder  how  a  girl  feels  when  she  hears 
a  man's  voice  tremble !  " — disquieting 
speculations,  these,  and  leading  straight 
to  Miss  Myra's  will.  "Oh,  dear  I" 
sighed  Mary,  "  I  wonder  what  I  shall 
finally  do — keep  the  money  or  get  a 
husband?"  Again  her  eyes  instinc- 
tively turned  to  the  sheepskin  volumes, 
and  again  she  huriedly  pushed  the 
question  behind  her.  "  I  know  what  I'll 
do,"  she  said,  "I'll  study  music.  It'll 
keep  me  from  thinking,  anyhow,  and 
perhaps  I  shall  make  a  good  pianist." 

She  started  with  enthusiasm,  having 
a  tuner  come  up  from  Norwich,  and 
sending  to  Boston  for  a  fresh  supply  of 
music.  But  somehow,  every  time  she 
played  a  waltz  she  fancied  herself  danc- 
ing with  a  devoted  young  admirer;  and 
whenever  she  played  a  wedding  march 
she  visualized  a  bride  slowly  sweeping 
up  the  aisle,  a  bride  whose  resemblance 

86 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

to  Miss  Mary  Meacham  was  quite  re- 
markable ;  yes,  and  whenever  she  played 
a  lullaby  she  dreamed  such  pure,  inno- 
cent dreams  that  she  almost  fancied  her- 
self rocking  a  cradle  with  the  point  of 
her  shoe  instead  of  gently  depressing  a 
piano  pedal. 

No;  as  Mary  soon  found  out,  music 
didn't  help  her  to  forget.  Music  made 
her  remember  all  the  morel 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  an  old  maid — I 
don't ! "  she  half  cried  to  herself  one 
day.     "  What's  the  use  of  being- 
She  stopped  at  that  and  blushed  a  little, 
modesty  checking  the  thought. 

But  Mary  had  eyes  in  her  head  and, 
although  she  checked  her  thought,  she 
knew  very  well  what  she  meant,  which 
was  substantially  as  follows :  "  What's 
the  use  of  being  pretty,  if  no  one  is  al- 
lowed to  admire  you?  What's  the  use 
of  having  nice  eyes  and  long  eyelashes 
and  a  clear  complexion,  if  you've  got  to 

37 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

hide  your  light  under  a  bushel,  and  live 
and  die  a  lonely  old  maid  ?  I  don't  want 
to  be  an  old  maid!  I  don't!  I  don't!" 

Yet,  even  while  she  was  shaking  her 
head,  the  counter-argument  rose  to 
her  mind. 

"What?  "it  said.  "  Will  you  throw 
away  fifty  thousand  dollars  and  the 
good  things  it  will  bring  you  all  your 
life?  And  suppose  you're  foolish 
enough  to  make  yourself  poor,  what  will 
you  get  for  it?  A  Scrapbook  Husband! 
That's  what  you'll  get  for  it!  " 

And  there  she  was,  back  at  the  place 
she  was  always  starting  from,  but  this 
time  she  went  a  little  farther.  '  That's 
all  right  too,"  she  thought.  "  All  hus- 
bands aren't  Scrapbook  Husbands!" 

"  That's  all  right  too,"  came  the  coun- 
ter-argument, brisk  and  bright  as  the 
play  of  a  sword.  '  You  take  a  chance 
though.  Those  women  in  the  Scrap- 

88 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

books  took  the  very  same  chance.  rAnd 
see  what  happened  to  them !  " 

"  If  there  were  only  some  way  of  tell- 
ing in  advance!"  sighed  poor  Mary — 
which  was  as  far  as  she  got  that  time. 

"  I  know  what  I'll  do,"  thought  Mary 
next  morning,  still  undecided,  "  I'll 
straighten  Aunt  Myra's  desk  and  put 
those  receipted  bills  in  the  attic;  and 
after  that  I'll  use  her  desk  instead  of 
that  little  writing  table  up  in  my  room. 
It'll  keep  me  from  thinking  anyhow." 

So  she  began  cleaning  out  the  desk 
in  the  library — one  of  those  huge,  ma- 
hogany affairs  with  a  revolving  cylinder 
over  the  writing  bed,  and  with  shelves 
and  glass  doors  that  reach  to  the  ceiling. 

Sorting  out  the  contents  of  the  bottom 
drawers,  Mary  came  to  a  morocco-cov- 
ered blank  book;  and  the  moment  she 
opened  it,  I  wish  to  say  she  stiffened 
with  attention. 

"  Why  Mary  Shouldn't  Marry,"  was 

39 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  promising  title,  written  in  Miss 
Myra's  spidery  handwriting;  and  un- 
derneath that,  arranged  like  a  subtitle, 
were  the  following  words :  "  To  be  Read 
by  Mary  After  My  Death,  Whenever 
She  Feels  That  My  Will  Was  Unkind 
or  Unjust." 

You  can  guess  from  this  that  it  didn't 
take  Mary  long  to  turn  to  page  one, 
and  she  hadn't  read  many  lines  before 
she  saw  that  Miss  Myra  had  written  a 
summary  of  her  most  caustic  thoughts 
regarding  Man.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
I  may  publish  "  Why  Mary  Shouldn't 
Marry  " ;  first,  because  it  was  a  master- 
piece of  its  kind;  and,  second,  because 
each  argument  was  supported  by  inci- 
dents cited  from  the  Scrapbooks.  But, 
before  I  go  any  farther,  I  want  to  tell 
you  the  strange  effect  which  that  little 
red-covered  book  had  upon  Mary. 

To  write  it  down  in  a  few  short 
words:  It  made  her  mad ! 

40 


WHY    MARY    SHOULDN  T    MARRY        WAS    THE    PROMISING    TITLE, 
WRITTEN    IN    MISS    MYHA's   SPIDERY    HANDWRITING 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Why  did  it  have  such  a  startling  ef- 
fect? I  cannot  tell  you.  But  the  more 
Mary  read,  the  more  she  felt  that  Man 
was  a  much  abused  creature  who  needed 
someone  to  take  his  part.  Yes,  the  more 
Mary  read  the  more  she  felt  like  cham- 
pioning the  Cause  of  Man,  like  "  stick- 
ing up  "  for  him,  defending  him  against 
traducers  and  upholding  the  honor  of 
his  name  untarnished  against  a  whole 
world  in  arms!  It  was,  I  think,  the  first 
time  Mary  had  ever  been  angry  in  her 
life. 

She  fairly  glowed  with  the  warmth 
of  her  feeling. 

"I  don't  believe  it,  Aunt  Myra! " 
she  exclaimed  here.  And  "  No,  Aunt 
Myra! "  she  exclaimed  there,  "  you're 
quite  mistaken!  "  Page  after  page  she 
read,  and  every  time  she  came  to  a  par- 
ticularly telling  point  she  shook  her 
head  saying,  "No,  sir!"  or  "  Tisn't 
so!"  or  "No,  Aunt  Myra  I  You're 

41 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

dreadfully  mistaken;  that's  all! "  Yes, 
some  day  I  must  certainly  publish  the 
contents  of  that  little  red  book  in  full, 
but  for  the  present  I  shall  content 
myself  with  quoting  the  closing  para- 
graphs: 

"To  summarize  this  part  of  my  argu- 
ment, Mary,  no  man  is  fit  to  marry  you, 
if  only  for  the  following  reasons : 

"FIRST.  You'll  never  find  a  man  who 
is  pure  in  heart.  If  you  doubt  this,  get 
your  candidate  in  a  room  by  himself 
and  read  him  a  beautiful  poem,  at  the 
same  time  modestly  showing  an  inch  or 
two  of  pretty  silk  stocking.  In  the 
middle  of  the  poem  suddenly  look  at 
him  over  the  top  of  your  book,  and  see 
whether  his  mind  is  on  the  beautiful 
thoughts  you  are  reading — or  whether 
it's  on  your  stocking! 

"  SECOND.  You'll  never  find  a  man 
who  isn't  a  natural-born  tyrant.  You 

42 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

are  expected  to  change  your  whole  life 
for  the  man  you  marry.  But  try  to 
change  his  ideas  for  a  single  day — and 
see  what  happens! 

THIRD.  You'll  never  find  a  man 
whose  love  is  superior  to  his  appetite. 
A  woman  will  endure  anything — yes, 
everything — for  the  man  she  loves.  But 
all  you've  got  to  do  to  lose  a  man's  affec- 
tion is  to  give  him  something  he  doesn't 
like  to  eat. 

"  For  these  reasons  alone,  my  dear, 
you  should  never  marry.  Any  time  you 
are  doubtful,  you  have  only  to  use  the 
Three  Tests  I  have  mentioned.  I  know 
in  advance  what  the  result  will  be." 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  believe  it!"  cried 
Mary,  a  challenging  ring  in  her  voice. 
'  There  are  lots  of  good  men  in  the 
world  —  men  with  pure  hearts,  who 
aren't  natural-born  tyrants  at  all,  and 
would  eat  anything — yes,  anything! — 

43 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

before  they'd  lose  their  affection  for  a 
girl  they  really  loved !  " 

She  thought  it  over  all  that  day,  and 
all  that  week,  a  Great  Idea  gradually 
taking  form  in  her  mind. 

"  Yes,"  she  thought,  "  I  could  easily 
prove  Aunt  Myra  wrong  by  finding  a 
nice  young  man  and  giving  him  the 
Three  Tests.  And  then " 

She  left  the  thought  there,  hanging 
in  midair,  but  the  next  day  she  caught 
herself  taking  it  up  again:  "He 
wouldn't  be  a  Scrapbook  Husband!" 
she  thought.  "No,  indeed!  And  it 
isn't  as  if  I'd  have  to  marry  him,  any- 
how !  All  I  want  is— 

Again  she  left  the  thought  at  loose 
ends,  perhaps  because  she  didn't  know 
herself  just  what  she  wanted,  perhaps 
because  she  didn't  like  to  put  it  into 
words.  It  may  be  that  all  she  wanted 
was  to  play  heroine  to  a  handsome 
young  hero,  or  it  may  have  been  admira- 

44 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

tion  or  affection  that  she  craved.  What- 
ever it  was,  it  was  strong  enough  to 
dominate  her  mind,  and  to  set  her  to 
considering  ways  and  means. 

"  I  could  easily  meet  them,  if  I 
wanted  to,"  she  thought.  "  I  know  lots 
of  the  girls  at  Miss  Dana's  Seminary 
who  have  brothers.  I  could  invite  the 
girls  to  visit  me  here  for  a  week  or  two, 
and  then,  of  course,  I  could  visit  them 
back — and  meet  their  brothers." 

From  that,  of  course,  it  was  only  a 
step  to  the  definite  decision. 

"  Yes !  "  she  suddenly  cried  to  herself 
one  day,  "  I'm  going  to  do  it  too !  " 

She  ran  to  her  room,  found  her  class- 
book,  and  began  checking  off  the  names 
and  addresses  of  those  girls  who  were 
fortunate  enough  to  have  brothers.  To 
each  of  these  she  wrote  a  charming, 
chatty  letter — though  not  one  word  did 
she  write  about  brothers;  you  can  be 

45 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

sure  of  that.     No;  she  simply  invited 
them  all  to  come  and  stay  with  her  for 

a  nice,  long  visit: 
/ 

"  It's  a  big  house,  with  bedrooms 
everywhere ;  and  we'll  have  the  loveliest, 
rompiest  time  imaginable.  Miss  Dana's 
closes  on  the  fifteenth  of  June,  and  I'll 
invite  Miss  Ames  to  come  as  a  sort  of 
chaperon,  and  then,  of  course,  we  can 
do  anything  we  please.  Now  remem- 
ber, I'm  counting  on  you  particularly 
to  lead  the  fun;  so  write  me  at  once 
and  tell  me  you're  coming;  and  oh,  what 
a  time  we'll  have!  " 

But  no  sooner  had  the  letters  gone  to 
the  post  office  than  Mary's  feet  turned 
cold,  her  young  heart  failed  her,  and 
she  ran  to  her  room  and  had  a  good, 
long  cry  across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  as 
girls  have  gone  and  cried  since  time 
immemorial. 

46 


OH;  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"I'm  a  Great,  Bold  Thing,"  she 
sobbed  to  herself.  "Aunt  Myra  studied 
men  all  her  life,  and  knew  them  better 
than  I  do.  Oh-ho!  "  (sob)  "  Oh-hol  " 
(sob).  "I  know  the  way  it'll  end!  I'll 
lose  the  house  and  lose  the  money  and 
get  a  husband  who'll  abuse  me,  and  tell 
his  friends  I'm  lazy  and  don't  know  how 
to  cook! " 

At  this  truly  sobering  reflection  she 
stopped  crying  and  looked  at  herself 
in  the  mirror  with  a  horrified  expres- 
sion. "  Wouldn't  that  be  awful!  "  she 
exclaimed. 

Calmly,  deliberately  then  she  formed 
the  following  resolution: 

"  If  I  can  find  a  man  who  loves  me — 
and  if  he  passes  Aunt  Myra's  Three 
Tests — why  then,  of  course — it  all  de- 
pends. .  .  .  But  if  Aunt  Myra's  right, 
and  if  I  can't  find  anybody  to  pass 
those  Three  Tests — why  then,  I'll  live 

47 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

and  die  an  old  maid;  yes,  and  glory 
in  it  too ! " 

She  looked  around  her  pretty  room 
and  out  of  her  window  across  the  fields 
to  the  Quinebaug  River,  winding  so 
pleasantly  along  between  its  double  line 
of  trees. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  she  whispered 
under  her  breath.  "  He'll  be  worth  it, 
if  he's  worth  it.  ...  But  he'll  have 
to  be  an  awfully  good  one ! " 


CHAPTER  III 

TIMES  change. 

I  know  this  is  an  ancient  expression, 
probably  as  old  as  the  second  genera- 
tion of  the  human  race.  I  mention  it, 
though,  because  it  is  so  true.  Even  in 
my  own  years  (and  I  am  not  so  old  as 
I  shall  be)  I  can  remember  when  the 
ladies  wore  enormous  bustles,  to  say 
nothing  of  those  comparatively 'recent 
days  when  equally  enormous  sleeves 
were  the  rage. 

Yes,  the  World  moves;  the  View- 
point changes;  History  reverses  itself. 
But,  in  all  these  movements,  changes 
and  reversals,  I  doubt  if  History  ever 
witnessed  a  more  complete  reversal  than 
is  shown  in  the  case  of  Mary  Meacham. 

Knowing  nothing  of  Man,  she  was 
going  to  champion  his  Cause  1 

4  49 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Never  having  had  a  Beau,  she  had 
pledged  herself  to  find  a  perfect  one! 

In  days  of  old,  as  we  all  know  well, 
the  young  knight  girded  himself  in 
armor  and  went  out  to  find  a  fair  young 
lady.  He  roved  unceasingly  until  he 
found  her,  and  when  he  found  her  he 
risked  everything  for  her  love.  But  in 
the  strange  adventures  which  happened 
to  Mary  because  of  Miss  Myra's  will  we 
see  a  fair  young  lady  going  forth  to  find 
a  Good  Young  Knight,  and  risking 
everything  in  the  quest. 

Nor  does  the  simile  end  there. 

Even  as  the  young  knight  was  pano- 
plied for  battle,  so  was  Mary,  as  I  shall 
presently  show  you. 

And  even  as  the  young  knight  was 
possessed  of  a  sharp,  keen  sword,  so  had 
Mary  possessed  herself  of  the  sharp, 
keen  wit  of  Miss  Myra. 

To  look  at  Mary  Meacham,  as  she 
prepared  herself  for  the  Search,  you 


50 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

might  have  thought  to  yourself:  "  Poor 
girl!  She  hasn't  a  chance  in  the  world. 
She'll  be  taken  in  by  the  first  handsome 
scamp  who  happens  to  smile  at  her" — 
so  innocent,  so  meek,  so  demure  was 
Mary's  demeanor.  But  Mary's  looks 
were  deceiving  to  this  extent:  she  had 
made  herself  formidable  by  means  of 
the  Three  Tests  of  Man,  and  she  had 
vowed  to  herself  that  she  wouldn't 
marry  any  candidate  who  couldn't  pass 
the  triple  examination. 

"  He  must  be  pure  in  heart.  He  must 
not  be  tyrannical.  And  his  love  must 
be  superior  to  his  appetite." 

Such  were  the  conditions.  And  when 
you  take  it  into  consideration  (as  I  have 
already  pointed  out  to  you)  that  Maiy 
was  to  lose  fifty  thousand  dollars  and 
the  title  to  the  Meacham  property  the 
day  she  married  (which  would  leave  her 
exactly  nothing  at  all  except  a  house  to 

51 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

live  in),  you  will  realize  that  she  was 
sufficiently  justified  in  being  careful  of 
her  choice. 

As  the  first  step  of  her  Search,  Mary 
began  to  prepare  for  her  party,  taking 
old  Ma'm  Dubois  into  her  confidence, 
and  regretting  it  the  very  next  minute. 
Ma'm  Dubois  had  been  Miss  Myra's 
maid  for  nearly  thirty  years,  and  was 
now  officiating  as  housekeeper.  In  her 
youth  she  had  passed  through  a  stormy 
matrimonial  career — three  husbands  in 
less  than  ten  years  and  the  last  one  a 
disciple  of  Bacchus  who  had  left  a  scar 
across  poor  Ma'm's  cheek  which  she 
would  carry  to  the  grave. 

From  this  you  will  see  that  Ma'm 
Dubois  was  the  same  one  who  had  been 
in  the  kitchen  peeling  potatoes  that 
morning  twenty-one  years  or  so  be- 
fore, when  Mary  was  first  carried  into 
the  house  on  the  hill — the  same  one  who 

62 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

had  tried  to  pump  Dame  Ellison  "  and 
found  the  well  was  dry." 

"  What!  "  cried  Ma'm  Dubois  in  her 
deep  voice.  "  You  are  going  out  in  the 
great  world  and  lose  your  every  pen- 
nee!  I  know  it!  I  know  it!  I  feel 
it  in  my  bones !  " 

Nor  could  any  amount  of  argument 
allay  her  fears;  but  all  that  week  she 
went  around  shaking  her  head  and 
drawing  sighs  so  deep  that  I  can  only 
describe  them  as  gusts  of  sorrow. 

"  Miss  Mary,"  she  said  one  morning 
in  an  ominous  voice,  "  there  is  some  one 
at  the  door  inquiring  for  you,  and 
announcing  herself  as  a  dressmaker." 

"  All  right,  Corinne,"  said  Mary,  col- 
oring a  little.  "  Show  her  in,  please." 

"  Ma'm'selle  will  have  her  par-tee, 
then? " 

'  Yes,  yes,  Corinne.  Show  her  in, 
please." 

Ma'm   Dubois   tragically   retreated, 

63 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

walking  flatfooted  on  her  rheumatic  old 
feet  and  shaking  her  head  with  an  air 
that  said:  "  This  poor  infant!  How 
leetle  she  knows  of  the  way  of  the  world ! 
Eh,  well!  If  Miss  Myra  couldn't  teach 
her  in  all  her  life,  I  cannot  do  it  now. 
I  have  tried  my  best,  but  my  tongue 
is  like  the  leetle  pig's  tail:  it  goes  all 
day  and  does  nothing." 

So  in  came  the  dressmaker,  and  Mary 
showed  her  the  materials  she  had  bought 
and  the  way  she  wanted  the  dresses 
made.  In  less  than  five  minutes  they 
were  both  talking  excitedly  together, 
draping  the  goods  first  on  Mary  and 
then  on  the  dressmaker,  twisting  this 
way  and  that,  trying  to  look  at  them- 
selves in  the  mirror  at  impossible  angles, 
making  suggestions  and  counter-sug- 
gestions with  a  speed  suggestive  of 
woodpeckers,  dipping  into  the  style 
books,  diving  out  again,  mumbling  to 
each  other  (with  pins  between  their 

54 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

lips),  and  even  getting  poor  old  Ma'm 
Dubois  worked  up — poor  old  Ma'm, 
who  had  come  in  to  see  what  the  excite- 
ment was  about  and  was  soon  adding 
fuel  to  the  flames ;  poor  old  Ma'm,  who 
had  experienced  three  husbands,  all  of 
whom  had  put  the  mustard  on  her  nose. 

They  finally  decided  on  four  dresses. 

The  first  was  a  stunner — blue  velvet 
and  silver  lace.  And  so  was  the  sec- 
ond— accordion-plaited  white  tulle  with 
wide  black  velvet  bands.  The  third 
was  more  conventional  —  dark  green 
broadcloth  trimmed  with  black  braid. 
And  the  fourth  was  one  of  those  blue 
taffetas  with  white  polka  dots,  which 
have  the  strange  power  of  making  girls 
look  like  charming  young  matrons  and 
matrons  like  charming  girls. 

Whereupon,  for  the  second  time  in 
my  story,  the  house  on  the  hill  became 
a  cheerful  scene  of  the  immemorial  art 
of  sewing.  The  dressmaker  went  away 

55 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

and  returned  in  Bill  Roode's  express 
wagon,  accompanied  by  a  sewing  ma- 
chine and  a  pale-faced  girl  with  round 
shoulders,  who  looked  as  though  she 
didn't  know  beans  and  could  do  more 
tricks  with  a  needle  and  thread  than 
many  a  poet  can  do  with  a  riming  dic- 
tionary. She  had  the  historic  name  of 
Annie  Moran,  and  it  was  she  who  gave 
me  the  description  of  Mary's  four 
dresses. 

For  nearly  a  month  they  worked — 
these  four — cutting,  snipping,  basting, 
fitting,  embroidering,  letting  out,  tak- 
ing in,  building  up  effects  and  designs 
like  the  unconscious  artists  they  were. 

At  times  they  chattered  away  like 
an  operatic  quartet,  Ma'm  Dubois'  bass 
notes  making  a  pleasing  accompaniment 
to  the  three  sopranos. 

At  other  times,  especially  at  the  fit- 
tings, they  held  themselves  in  breathless 

56 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUIl 

silence  and  jumped  in  concert  if  the 
scissors  dropped. 

Then  the  sewing  machine  would  start 
whirring  again,  and  the  faster  it  went 
the  louder  they  talked;  and  the  louder 
they  talked  the  faster  went  the  sewing 
machine;  until  at  last,  the  treadle  sud- 
denly stopping,  they  would  find  them- 
selves shouting  at  each  other  against  a 
background  of  silence,  and  then  they 
would  look  at  each  other  and  laugh. 

Even  so,  I  imagine,  long  years  ago, 
the  craftsmen  wrought  thei  armor  of  a 
budding  knight,  putting  in  a  metal  in- 
sertion here,  letting  out  a  wrought-iron 
breastplate  there,  the  smithy  fire  roar- 
ing up  the  chimney  and  the  hammers 
cheerfully  clinking  on  the  anvils.  And, 
while  it  was  going  on  I  can  imagine  the 
young  knight  dreaming  of  the  Beaute- 
ous Damosel  he  was  going  to  find  as 
soon  as  his  armor  was  finished — just  as 

57 


OH,  MAKY,  BE  CARE*  UL! 

Mary  often  dreamed  of  the  Good 
Young  Knight  who  was  to  be  the  object 
of  her  search  as  soon  as  her  plans  were 
complete. 

"  There,"  she  said  to  herself  when 
the  four  dresses  were  finally  done  and 
Bill  Roode's  express  wagon  had  gone 
jogging  down  the  hill  with  the  sewing 
machine  and  the  two  dressmakers, 
"  now  I  must  get  ready  for  the  girls. 
Let  me  see — how  many  are  coming? " 

She  went  to  the  desk  and  checked  off 
the  names  of  the  girls  who  had  accepted 
her  invitation.  There  were  seven  alto- 
gether. 

"  Seven,"  nodded  Mary,  her  glance 
ever  so  far  away,  "  and  they've  all  got 
brothers,  I  know.  .  .  .  Yes,  I'm  sure 
Aunt  Myra  was  mistaken — just  as  sure 
as  anything.  In  fact  I  wouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  every  single  one  of  them  passed 
the  tests." 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Thus  encouraging  herself,  she  began 
to  prepare  for  the  visit  of  the  Seven 
Sisters. 

There  were  rooms  to  be  aired  and 
dusted,  furniture  to  be  arranged,  the 
Scrapbooks  to  be  moved  to  the  attic, 
curtains  to  be  put  up,  frowning  rooms 
to  be  made  cheerful.  In  fact  the  old 
Meacham  house  had  such  a  stirring  up 
as  it  hadn't  seen  for  generations;  and 
when  it  was  done,  it  fairly  glowed  with 
hospitality  —  brass  andirons  winking 
away  on  every  hand,  and  such  cheerful 
chintzes  in  the  bedrooms  that,  the  mo- 
ment you  stepped  across  a  threshold, 
you  felt  you  were  calling  on  a  rich  old 
uncle  who  intended  first  to  make  you 
laugh  and  then  to  slip  a  handful  of 
money  in  your  pocket  and  pat  you  on 
the  back  and  whisper:  "  Don't  you  say 
a  word  to  a  soul,  my  dear,  but  there's 
plenty  more  where  that  came  from  I  " 

59 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

And  how  I  wish  I  could  tell  you 
about  the  arrival  of  the  Seven  Sisters, 
accompanied  by  Miss  Ames,  the  prim 
old  teacher  of  mathematics  at  Miss 
Dana's  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies !  I 
wish  I  could  tell  you,  for  instance,  how 
those  Seven  Sisters  fell  upon  Mary  at 
the  Plainfield  station  and  nearly  kissed 
her  features  off,  how  John  Kingsley 
and  Fred  Briggs  took  them  up  to  Black 
Hill  in  their  cars,  how  they  squealed 
with  pleasure  at  everything  they  saw, 
how  they  overran  the  old  Meacham 
house  like  seven  magical  morning 
glories  suddenly  blooming  on  an  an- 
tique trellis! 

I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  too,  how 
they  chatted,  sang,  played,  romped,  and 
particularly  how,  one  morning,  they  all 
braided  their  hair,  pinned  up  their  skirts 
and  played  Little  Girls  with  such  droll 
effect  that  prim  Miss  Ames  laughed  till 
she  nearly  died,  and  after  a  short  retire- 

60 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

ment  came  back  with  a  killing  little 
mustache  and  imperial  blacked  upon  her 
classical  face,  and  temporarily  forgot  all 
the  mathematics  she  had  ever  learned. 

But  if  I  were  to  tell  you  every  merry 
thing  which  happened  that  week  it 
would  nearly  fill  this  book;  and  that 
wouldn't  do  at  all,  you  know,  because  I 
must  get  me  forward  with  my  story. 

One  thing  I  must  tell  you,  though: 
before  the  Seven  Sisters  went  away  on 
the  last  day  of  June  Mary  had  prom- 
ised to  spend  a  week  with  each  of  them ; 
and,  what  is  more,  she  had  written  down 
the  names,  dates  and  places  in  the  busi- 
nesslike form  of  a  time-table.  Five  of 
the  Sisters  were  to  be  visited  as  soon 
as  the  summer  holidays  were  over.  The 
other  two  (whose  brothers  were  mar- 
ried) were  to  be  called  upon  later  in 
the  autumn. 

Even  so,  I  imagine,  long  years  ago, 
a  young  knight  made  up  a  schedule  of 

61 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  jousts  and  tournaments  in  which  he 
hoped  to  win  glory  and  the  love  of  that 
Beauteous  Damosel.  And  when  he  had 
made  up  his  list,  I  can  also  imagine  him 
thinking  of  the  cuts  and  thrusts  by 
which  he  hoped  to  attain  his  heart's  de- 
sire— exactly  as  Mary  reflected  over  the 
Three  Tests  by  which  she  expected  to 
find  her  Good  Young  Knight. 

"  How  quiet  is  the  house,  now  the 
young  ladies  have  gone,"  said  Ma'm 
Dubois  one  morning. 

'  Yes,  Corinne.  I'm  afraid  you'll 
be  lonesome  when  I  go  to  visit  them." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  but  you'll  come  back. 
You  have  too  wise  a  head  to  be  fool'  by 
any  man  and  lose  so  much.  I  fret  no 
more.  But  did  you  notice  how  happy 
the  young  ladies  were — and  even  the 
venerable  Miss  Ames  as  well? " 

"  I  think  they  enjoyed  themselves," 
laughed  Mary. 

"  Of  a  course  they  did!    And  I  tell 

62 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

you  why,  Ma'm'selle :  it  is  because  they 
have  not  yet  experience*  real  trouble. 
It  is  because  no  man  has  guided  them 
yet  to  the  halter." 

"  «  Altar/  Corinne." 

"  It  is  all  the  same,  if  it  please,  Ma'm'- 
selle." 

"  Not  if  you  know  how  to  choose  a 
husband,  Corinne." 

"La-la,  Ma'm'selle!"  cried  the  old 
woman  in  alarm,  "  what  are  you  saying? 
You  make  me  fret  myself  again.  There 
is  no  way  to  choose.  Behol'  the  Scrap- 
books,  which  it  would  be  wise  for  you 
to  bring  down  out  of  the  attic  and 
restore  to  their  place  on  guard." 

Mary  made  no  reply,  but  to  herself 
she  was  thinking:  "  Pure  in  heart.  Not 
a  tyrant.  Love  superior  to  his  appetite. 
Oh,  well,  it  won't  be  long  now! " 


es 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  too  long  for  Mary,  though. 

A  few  days  later  she  found  the  lone- 
liness of  the  house  was  more  oppressive 
than  ever,  now  that  her  friends  had  been 
there  and  gone. 

"  If  I  feel  this  way  already,"  thought 
Mary,  "  How  will  it  be  in  another 
twenty  years! — another  forty!  " 

It  was  in  the  evenings  when  she  felt 
it  the  worst.  The  house  seemed  to  grow 
silent  and  sad,  as  though  it  were  brood- 
ing over  the  long  years  when  Miss  Myra 
had  lived  there  in  bitter  seclusion.  Or 
sometimes,  as  in  all  old  houses,  strange 
noises  made  themselves  heard,  especially 
on  a  cool  night  after  a  hot  day  when 
the  timbers  seemed  to  contract,  and 
Mary  would  lie  awake  listening,  wonder- 
ing whether  the  anxious  feeling  at  her 
heart  was  a  premonition  of  ill. 

64 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

But  youth  is  youth,  when  all  is  said 
and  done  and  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how 
Mary  felt  on  the  morning  when  she 
started  out  on  her  wonderful  adventure. 
If  you  had  seen  her  when  she  reached 
the  Plainfield  Station,  all  ready  to  start 
upon  the  Great  Search,  you  wouldn't 
have  thought  she  was  feeling  any  pre- 
monition of  ill  any  more  than  you  would 
have  dreamed  that  she  was  starting  upon 
such  an  extraordinary  mission.  She  was 
dressed  in  green  broadcloth — the  one  I 
have  told  you  about — and  she  looked  so 
gentle,  so  absolutely  free  from  guile  that, 
if  you  had  seen  her  at  the  station  that 
morning,  you  might  very  well  have 
found  yourself  thinking:  "  I  wonder  if 
this  girl  knows  enough  to  buy  a  ticket 
before  she  gets  on  the  train.'* 

And  whether  it  was  due  to  the  excite- 
ment I  cannot  tell  you,  but  I  doubt  if 
Mary  had  ever  looked  so  attractive  in 
her  life  as  she  looked  that  morning.  Her 

5  65 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

cheeks  were  like  peach-blow,  her  eyes 
were  almost  luminous,  her  hair  (coiled 
closely  around  her  queenly  little  head) 
caught  every  glint  of  the  sun  which  hap- 
pened to  come  that  way  until  it  seemed 
to  shimmer  of  itself.  Moreover,  the 
green  broadcloth  fitted  the  tender  young 
curves  of  her  figure  to  perfection  as  the 
calyx  of  a  flower  incloses  the  corolla,  and 
that,  I  think  also  helped  to  attract  the 
eye. 

Not  that  Mary  seemed  to  realize  that 
anyone's  eye  was  being  attracted — oh, 
dear,  no! 

She  didn't  appreciate  the  courtly 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Starkweather 
checked  her  trunk,  nor  the  gallant  style 
in  which  the  conductor  punched  her 
ticket,  nor  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  Men 
Across  the  Aisle — oh,  certainly  not! 

And  when  she  left  the  train  at  Jewett 
City  (assisted  by  the  conductor  and 
brakeman,  and  followed  by  the  watch- 

66 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

ful  eyes  aforesaid)  she  didn't  know  that 
all  eyes  followed  her  as  she  hurried 
across  the  station  and  met  Edith  Spen- 
cer and  kissed  her  through  her  veil — 
no;  not  for  a  moment! 

In  short,  it  isn't  at  all  surprising  that 
when  Edith  Spencer's  brother  came 
home  from  the  office  that  evening  and 
caught  his  first  glimpse  of  Mary,  he 
straightway  hurried  upstairs.  There  he 
shaved,  anointed  himself  with  delicately 
scented  waters,  and  changed  to  his  new- 
est suit.  Perhaps  you  will  think  that 
this  was  a  lot  to  do  on  the  strength  of 
one  glance,  but,  for  my  part,  I  am  will- 
ing to  wager  that  Will  Spencer  had 
heard  a  thing  or  two  about  Mary  from 
his  sister  Edith. 

"  She  owns  the  loveliest  house,  Will," 
I  can  imagine  her  telling  him,  "  full  of 
the  sweetest  antiques  you  ever  saw! 
She's  rich  too — awfully  rich,  I  guess. 
They  say  the  Meachams  are  the  oldest 

67 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

family  in  Connecticut,  and  Mary's  the 
only  one  left.  So  she  comes  in  for  every- 
thing of  course.  And,  oh,  what  a  lot  of 
land  she  owns  down  by  the  river!  Why, 
you  can  walk  around  for  a  week  and 
never  step  off  it!  And  not  only  that 
but — oh,  well,  you'll  see  her  for  your- 
self soon  enough,  that's  all!  " 

With  what  result  you  already  know. 

And  when  Will  Spencer  came  down 
from  his  room  that  evening,  with  cheeks 
as  smooth  as  silk  and  smelling  most  ex- 
quisitely of  white  lilac,  it  didn't  take 
Mary  long  to  make  a  great  discovery. 

"  Oh!  Oh!  Oh! "  she  exulted  in  her 
heart.  "  I  do  believe  I've  found  my  first 
real  beau!" 

In  matters  like  these  a  girl's  instinct 
is  infallible ;  so  now,  I  think  I  ought  to 
describe  him  a  little:  Mary's  first  beau! 

He  was  tall  and  thin,  had  a  keen  face, 
and  wore  his  hair  brushed  back  in  the 
modern  style  of  pompadours.  In  addi- 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

tion  he  had  a  trim  mustache,  which 
somehow  gave  him  the  air  of  a  yachts- 
man, though  I  can't  quite  tell  you  how. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  in  the  coal 
and  wood  business — assistant  treasurer 
of  the  Jewett  City  Coal  and  Wood 
Company — which  isn't  a  particularly 
romantic  business.  And  yet,  before  the 
week  was  over,  I  am  bound  to  confess 
that  Will  Spencer's  attitude  savored  a 
great  deal  more  of  Romance  than  it  did 
of  Coal  or  of  Wood. 

Mary  liked  it  too. 

"  He's  awfully  nice,"  she  thought  one 
morning,  as  she  luxuriously  lay  awake 
and  watched  the  sunbeams  stealing 
through  the  window.  "  And  isn't  he 
strong!  Why,  he  opened  that  window 
last  night  as  though  it  were  nothing, 
and  nobody  could  budge  it  except  him ! 
And  when  I'm  in  the  room  he  hardly 
looks  at  anybody  else!  And  how  he 
laughs  whenever  I  make  a  joke.  .  .  . 

69 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

I'm  glad  he's  got  a  sense  of  humor. 
And  when  I  met  him  on  the  stairs  last 
night.  .  .  .  They're  awfully  funny — 
men  are.  .  .  .  Awfully  interesting  too. 
...  .  .  I  think  I'd  better  try  him  on  one 
of  the  Three  Tests  tonight,  because  it 
would  be  a  terrible  thing  if  I  fell  in  love 
with  him — and  then  found  out  he 
wouldn't  do!" 

So  Mary  dressed  herself  with  particu- 
lar care  that  evening,  putting  on  the 
white  tulle  with  the  black  velvet  bands. 
She  also  wore  white  silk  stockings  and 
black  suede  pumps,  altogether  making 
such  a  pretty  picture  that  when  she 
went  downstairs  both  Mrs.  Spencer  and 
Edith  cried  out  with  admiration.  .You 
can  imagine  from  that  how  Master  Wil- 
liam felt  when  he  came  bouncing  in  at 
half -past  five  and  caught  the  full  effect 
of  it  right  in  the  eye. 

"  Jingo  I "  he  cried.    "  Jingo ! " 
And  was  bound,  hand  and  foot. 

70 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

They  went  out  on  the  veranda  after 
dinner.  Everyone  remarked  how  gay 
our  Mary  was,  little  suspecting  that  her 
vivacity  was  only  assumed  to  hide  a 
growing  nervousness. 

"I  won't  be  able  to  do  it,"  she 
thought  time  and  again.  "  I'll  drop 
the  book.  My  voice  will  break " 

But  in  and  out  of  her  thoughts  ap- 
peared the  sad,  stern  face  of  Aunt 
Myra,  and  that  threatening  array  of 
sheepskin  volumes.  "  Oh,  Mary,  be 
careful ! "  they  seemed  to  be  saying. 

Moreover,  it  wasn't  for  nothing  that 
Mary  was  a  Meacham,  as  you  will  real- 
ize later.  "  It's  better  to  find  out  now 
than  afterward,"  she  told  herself; 
"  though,  of  course,  he  isn't  that  sort  of 
a  man  at  all." 

"  I  think  I'll  play  something,"  she 
said  aloud.  "  I'll  be  out  again  soon." 

At  the  piano  she  selected  the  "  Fifth 
Nocturne,"  its  deep,  stirring  melody 

71 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

matching  well  her  mood.  She  had 
reached  one  of  the  most  appealing  pas- 
sages when,  exactly  as  she  had  expected, 
Master  William  came  in  to  "  turn  the 
music."  Now  Mary  knew  the  "  Fifth 
Nocturne  "  by  heart ;  so  while  she  played 
they  talked. 

"  You  do  look  sweet  to-night,"  whis- 
pered William. 

"  Listen,"  said  Mary.  "  Isn't  that 
beautiful? " 

"  It's  the  way  you  play  it." 

"  No ;  it's  the  way  it's  written.  Listen. 
Do  you  like  poetry?  " 

"  I  like  good  poetry." 

"  All  right.  When  I've  finished  this 
— I'll  read  you  something." 

She  ended  the  "  Nocturne  "  with  a 
challenging  chord  and  reached  up  for 
the  "  Gems  of  Poetry,"  which  she  had 
previously  placed  upon  the  piano. 

"  I'm  going  to  read  you  a  verse  from 
Keats'  '  Ode  to  a  Nightingale,' "  she 

72 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

said.  "  Poor  Keats !  You  know,  he  died 
young,  of  consumption,  and  one  night, 
when  he  knew  he  couldn't  live  much 
longer,  he  heard  a  nightingale " 

Young  Mr.  Spencer  had  seated  him- 
self, sympathetically  nodding,  and 
Mary  took  a  chair  on  the  other  side  of 
the  room.  As  though  unconsciously  she 
crossed  her  knees,  bringing  to  light  a 
few  modest  inches  of  a  white  silk  stock- 
ing— oh,  not  half  so  much  as  a  man  will 
show  when  he  wears  low  shoes!  And,  as 
though  to  catch  the  light  of  the  lamp, 
Mary  held  the  book  in  front  of  her  eyes 
in  such  a  way  that  she  couldn't  see  what 
Mr.  Spencer  was  doing. 

At  first  her  voice  trembled  a  little  as 
she  read,  but  it  gradually  settled  itself 
into  gentle  music: 

"  Darkling  I  listen ;  and,  for  many  a  time 

I  have  been  half  in  love  with  easeful  Death, 
Called  him  soft  names  in  many  a  mused  rime 
To  take  into  the  air  my  quiet  breath ; 

73 


OH,  MARY,  BE.  CAREFUL! 

Now  more  than  ever  seems  it  rich  to  die 
To  cease  upon  the  midnight  with  no  pain, 

While  thou   art  pouring   forth  thy   soul 

abroad 
In  such  an  ecstasy !          ?9 

Without  warning  she  very  suddenly 
lowered  the  book  and  looked  at  Mr. 
Spencer. 

And  simultaneously  a  little  ache 
knocked  on  the  door  of  Mary's  heart  and 
pushed  its  way  inside,  for  Mr.  Spencer's 
eyes  were  most  unmistakably  upon 
Mary's  stocking  1 

Unobserved,  she  quietly  raised  the 
book.  "  That  might  have  been  an  acci- 
dent," she  thought.  "  I'll  try  again: 

"  ITh'ou  wast  not  born  for  death,  immortal 

Bird! 

No  hungry  generations  tread  thee  down; 
The  voice  I  hear  this  passing  night  was 
heard 

In  ancient  days  by  emperor  and  clown : 

74 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Perhaps  the  selfsame  song  that  found  a 

path! 
.Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when, 

sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn ; — " 

Again  Mary  suddenly  lowered  the 
book — and  found  her  auditor's  eyes 
where  they  had  been  before.  Another 
little  ache  knocked  on  her  heart,  and 
she  shut  the  book  with  something  like 
a  bang. 

"  Did  you  like  it?  "  she  asked,  rising, 
and  yet  not  wishing  to  be  rude. 

'  Yes,  yes !   Please  read  some  more !" 

"Which  passage  did  you  like  the 
best? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Spen- 
cer uneasily.  "  What  he  said  about  the 
corn  was  pretty  good,  don't  you  think?" 

"  I'm  going  out  on  the  veranda 
again,"  said  Mary  in  a  muffled  voice. 
"  They'll  wonder  where  we  are." 

75 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

She  almost  ran  outside ;  and  whereas, 
ar  few  minutes  earlier,  they  had  all  re- 
marked how  gay  our  Mary  was,  they 
soon  began  to  ask  themselves  what  had 
made  her  so  quiet. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  awful,"  Mary  was 
thinking,  "if  Aunt  Myra  was  right! 
Such  a  sad,  beautiful  poem — and  poor 
Mr.  Keats  was  dying  when  he  wrote  it 
— and,  instead  of  being  lifted  up,  or 
anything  like  that,  all  Will  Spencer 
could  do  was  to — was  to  look — without 
paying  the  least  attention  to  what  I 
was  reading!  Oh,  well;  that  settles  him! 
I'm  going  to  the  Putnam's  to-morrow. 
I'll  bet  Ella  Putnam's  brother  isn't 
that  kind." 


CHAPTER  Y 

THE  Putnams  lived  at  New  Haven, 
and  next  day  Mary  journeyed  there  in 
pursuit  of  her  quest.  On  the  train  she 
took  stock  of  herself. 

"  Somehow,"  she  thought,  "  I  feel  a 
dreadful  lot  older.  Maybe  that's  what 
makes  people  look  old — the  experiences 
they  go  through.  I'll  have  to  be  careful. 
I  suppose  that's  why  Aunt  Myra  looked 
so  pinched  at  times ;  she  knew  an  awful 
lot.  But,  all  the  same,  she  was  wrong 
about  the  men.  It  stands  to  reason  that 
a  man  can  be  just  as  pure  minded  as 
a  woman.  I  know  if  a  man  I  liked  was 
reading  me  a  wonderful  poem,  I'd  be 
listening  to  him  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul.  I  wouldn't  be — I  wouldn't  be — 
well,  my  mind  wouldn't  be  wandering 
around  like  Will  Spencer's  mind  was 

77 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

wandering  around.  I  know  that  much!" 

At  this  point  Mary  found  herself 
frowning — frowning  so  soon  upon  her 
wonderful  Quest! 

"This  won't  do,"  she  told  herself. 
"  I  must  put  my  thoughts  on  something 
pleasanter,  or  Ella  will  think  I  didn't 
enjoy  myself  at  the  Spencers'." 

Searching  her  mind  for  something 
more  pleasant,  she  presently  began 
thinking:  "  I  wonder  what  Ella  Put- 
nam's brother  looks  like.  Edith  said 
he  was  professor  of  Persian  history — 
so  perhaps  he's  too  old " 

But,  as  Mary  soon  found  out,  Pro- 
fessor Putnam  wasn't  yet  twenty-five. 
It  being  Saturday  he  had  brought  his 
sister  Ella  to  the  station  in  the  family 
car.  The  moment  Mary  saw  him  she 
liked  him.  He  was  such  an  earnest, 
scholarly  brother,  with  such  large  lenses 
in  his  spectacles  and  such  a  bashful  man- 
ner with  the  ladies.  Moreover,  although 

78 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  viewed  life 
from  an  intellectual  standpoint,  he 
wasn't  above  making  a  classical  jest 
now  and  then. 

Near  the  station,  for  instance,  they 
were  held  up  at  a  corner.  "  That's  three 
times  running  we've  been  stopped  here," 
shyly  remarked  the  professor  over  his 
shoulder.  "  I  wish  they'd  make  it  a 
movable  feast." 

At  this  Mary  and  Ella  smiled  at  each 
other,  one  with  pride  and  the  other  with 
appreciation. 

"  I  guess  I'm  going  to  have  a  good 
time  here,"  thought  Mary,  settling  her- 
self more  at  her  ease.  "  Even  if  he  is  a 
professor,  he's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of." 

And  it  may  have  been  because  he  was 
bashful,  or  it  may  have  been  because  of 
his  scholarly  air;  but,  whatever  it  was, 
Mary  and  the  professor  soon  became 
great  friends.  He  privately  told  Ella 
that  Mary  was  so  unspoiled;  and  Mary 

79 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

privately  told  Ella  that  her  brother  was 
so  nice  and  classical  1 

From  which  you  can  see  how  well 
they  were  getting  along. 

Before  the  afternoon  was  over,  the 
professor  had  confided  to  Mary  that  he 
was  writing  a  "  Life  of  Zoroaster" ;  and 
at  dinner  time,  when  Mary  found  the 
wishbone  in  her  chicken,  she  nodded  her 
queenly  little  head  at  the  professor,  as 
good  as  to  say:  "  We're  going  to  have 
a  bit  of  fun  with  this  as  soon  as  it's  dry." 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  they 
pulled  the  wishbone  while  Ella  was  up- 
stairs getting  ready  for  church. 

"  You've  got  it! "  cried  Mary. 
"You've  got  it!  Did  you  wish?" 

'  Yes,"  said  the  young  professor, 
gazing  quite  fervently  through  his  spec- 
tacles, "  and  a  very  nice  wish  too! " 

After  that,  of  course,  he  was  soon 
showing  her  and  quoting  extracts  from 
his  "  Life  of  Zoroaster." 

80 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

And  after  that,  of  course,  it  was  the 
most  natural  tiding  in  the  world  for 
Mary  to  ask  him  if  he  liked  poetry. 

*  Ye-es,"  he  said.  "  Poetry  is  very 
elevating — the  right  kind  of  course." 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  it."  Overhead 
faintly  sounded  the  footsteps  of  Ella, 
who  was  getting  ready  for  church.  "  I 
guess  there's  time,"  reflected  Mary, 
"  and  I  shall  feel  so  much  better  to 
know  Aunt  Myra  was  wrong.  The 
book  is  on  my  bureau.  .  .  .  And  I've 
got  my  blue  ones  on."  Aloud  she  said: 
"  Did  you  ever  read  Keats'  '  Ode  to  a 
Greek  Urn'?" 

"  N — no.    I  don't  remember  it." 

"  Then,  if  you'll  wait  a  minute,  I'll 
get  it  and  read  it  to  you.  Something 
you  read  a  moment  ago  reminded  me 
of  it." 

She  ran  upstairs  and  was  down  again 
with  her  "  Gems  of  Poetry  "  in  no  time. 
And  it  may  have  been  the  exercise,  or 

6  81 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

it  may  have  been  the  good,  fresh  air 
of  New  Haven,  but,  whatever  it  was, 
she  was  quite  breathless  when  she  re- 
turned and  her  cheeks  were  like  that 
red,  red  rose  which  sweetly  blooms  in 
June. 

She  seated  herself  across  the  room 
from  the  professor,  and  as  though  un- 
consciously she  crossed  her  knees,  bring- 
ing a  few  shy  inches  of  a  blue  silk  stock- 
ing to  view — not  half — not  half! — so 
much  as  a  man  will  show  when  he  wears 
low  shoes.  From  this,  of  course,  you 
will  understand  that  Mary  was  wearing 
her  blue  taffeta — that  blue  taffeta  with 
the  white  polka  dots  which  has  the 
strange  power  of  making  a  girl  look  like 
a  charming  young  matron  or  a  matron 
like  a  charming  girl. 

Mary  opened  her  "  Gems  of  Poetry  " 
to  Keats'  Ode,  but  when  she  glanced  it 
over  it  seemed  to  have  entirely  too  much 
"  kiss  "  and  "  bliss  "  in  it,  entirely  too 


'OH,   DEAR!"   SHE   THOUGHT   IN   SUDDEN   ALARM, 
"WHAT'S  HE   DOING   THAT  FOR?" 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

much  about  "  bold  lovers  "  and  "  happy 
love." 

"  He's  too  classical  for  anything  like 
that,"  she  hurriedly  thought,  "  even  if 
I  cared  to  read  it  to  him."  And,  turn- 
ing the  page,  she  said  aloud :  "  Here's 
Tennyson's  '  Break,  Break,  Break.'  I 
think  I'll  read  that  instead." 

She  lifted  the  book  in  front  of  her 
eyes  and  read  till  she  reached  the  line, 
"And  the  stately  ships  go  on,"  when 
a  curious  movement  on  her  auditor's 
part  caused  her  to  glance  over  the  top 
of  her  book. 

"  Oh,  dear! "  she  thought  in  sudden 
alarm,  "  what's  he  doing  that  for?  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  professor  was 
polishing  his  spectacles,  polishing  them 
with  nervous  haste  as  though  he  were  in 
a  hurry  to  use  them.  Filled  with  a  dis- 
quieting feeling  Mary  lifted  the  book 
in  front  of  her  eyes  again : 

83 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill; 
But  0  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  Hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still !  " 

From  a  guarded  movement  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room  she  knew  the  pro- 
fessor was  putting  his  spectacles  on  his 
nose.  Sadly,  mournfully,  Mary  con- 
tinued : 

"  Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O  sea! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is 
<Jead " 

When  she  suddenly  lowered  the  book 
to  her  lap,  and  caught  Professor  Put- 
nam most  unmistakably  failing  in  Test 
Number  One. 

A  tear  of  mortification  arose  in 
Mary's  eye.  And  another  little  ache 
knocked  on  her  heart  and,  pushing  its 
way  inside,  woke  up  the  other  two 
which  had  already  taken  their  quarters 

84 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

there.  "  Isn't  it  awful?  "  she  sighed  to 
herself,  closing  the  book.  "  I'm  begin- 
ning to  think  Aunt  Myra  was  right." 

She  thought  it  over  on  the  way  to 
church,  she  thought  it  over  on  the  way 
back;  and  after  dinner  (pleading  a 
headache)  she  went  to  her  room  to  think 
it  over  again. 

"  Yes,"  she  finally  mourned  to  her- 
self, "  I'm  beginning  to  think  Aunt 
Myra  was  right.  If  I  marry  a  man 
who  looks  when  his  mind  ought  to  be 
full  of  beautiful  thoughts,  why,  he'd 
look  at  others  too — and  that,  of  course, 
is  the  beginning  of  a  Scrapbook  Hus- 
band! No,"  she  sadly  told  herself,  "  a 
man  like  that  isn't  worth  fifty  thousand 
dollars.  .  .  .  Oh,  Mary,  be  careful  1 
.  .  .  I  only  hope  Mabel  Brower's 
brother  will  know  enough  to  keep  his 
eyes  to  himself." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Bur  the  moment  she  saw  Dick 
Brower  poor  Mary  had  her  doubts. 
"  I'm  getting  so  wise,"  she  thought  to 
herself,  "  I'm  beginning  to  feel  down- 
right wicked.  But — yes — I'm  sure  he'd 
look! " 

Perhaps  this  was  because  Dick  be- 
longed to  that  type  of  young  men  who 
are  generally  vaguely  described  as  be- 
ing "  sporty."  He  was  stout  but  active, 
liked  to  talk,  used  slang,  wore  checks, 
and  was  one  of  those  few  but  fortunate 
men  in  whom  nature  has  combined  red 
hair  and  a  falsetto  voice.  Added  to 
this  he  was  in  the  automobile  business 
and  drove  one  of  the  fastest  cars  in 
Norwich.  "  Give  me  a  little  speed  on 

86 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  side,"  he  liked  to  say,  "  and  let  me 
die  happy! " 

Mary  had  never  seen  anyone  like  him, 
and  was  greatly  amused.  There  was 
never  a  dull  moment  when  Dick  was 
in  the  house.  He  knew  all  the  vaude- 
ville jokes  of  the  day  and  made  Mary 
laugh  more  than  she  had  ever  laughed 
in  her  life  before. 

The  third  afternon  she  found  herself 
watching  the  clock  for  Dick's  time  to 
come  home,  and  it  wasn't  long  before 
Master  Dick  began  coming  home  very 
early  indeed.  He  took  Mary  out  in  his 
runabout  and  talked  incessantly. 

"  You  know  I  think  a  lot  of  you,"  he 
told  her  one  day. 

"  Oh,  but  you  mustn't!  You  might 
run  into  something! " 

"  No ;  on  the  level,  little  girl ;  you're 
in  a  class  by  yourself.  You  sit  there 
like  a  little  queen  and  never  bat  an  eye- 

87 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

lash  when  I  hit  her  up  to  sixty  miles 
an    hour.      There's    something    about 

you " 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  test  him," 
thought  Mary  with  a  resigned  nod  of 
her  head.  "  No  use  reading  him  poetry, 
he  wouldn't  listen  ...  I  know!  He's 
awfully  fond  of  his  meals,  so  I'll  try 
him  on  Number  Three.  *  No  man's  love 
is  superior  to  his  appetite.'  I'll  try  him 
on  that  one! " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Pris- 
cilla? "  asked  Dick. 

"  Oh,  lots  of  funny  things,"  laughed 
Mary.  "  Do  you  want  to  do  something 
for  me? " 

"  Bet  your  life  I  do!  Anything  from 
arson  to  bigamy! " 

"  Really  and  truly? " 

"  Cross  my  heart  and  hope  to  die !  " 

"  Well — I  suppose  you'll  laugh — but 
I  want  you  to  stop  using  milk  or  sugar 
or  cream  for  the  rest  of  this  week." 

88 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"What  for?"  cried  Dick  in  great 
surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  smiled  Mary. 
"  Say  it's  just  to  oblige  me." 

"  Queer  business,  queer  business," 
said  Dick.  "  But  just  as  you  say,  Pris- 
cilla.  There's  nothing  I  wouldn't  do 
to  oblige  a  little  queen  like  you! " 

"  Then  you  promise?  " 

"Bet  your  life!" 

"  Cross  your  heart? "  laughed  Mary 
again. 

"And  hope  to  die!" 

"  All  right,"  thought  Mary.  "  We'll 
see.  I've  noticed  he's  terribly  fond  of 
cream,  and  generally  has  three  pieces 
of  sugar.  So  now  if  he  can  suddenly 
stop  using  them — well,  that's  one  Test 
anyhow! " 

She  watched  him  closely  at  the  dinner 
table  and  noticed  that  he  hardly  touched 
his  unsweetened  tea.  "  Going  to  try  a 

89 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

little  dieting,"  he  explained  to  the  won- 
dering family,  but  Mary  thought  he 
was  rather  moody  about  it.  He  talked 
less  than  usual,  and  made  a  grimace 
every  time  he  lifted  the  cup  to  his  lips. 

At  breakfast  next  morning  he  was 
decidedly  taciturn,  drinking  a  little  cof- 
fee but  leaving  his  cereal  untouched. 
At  dinnertime  that  night  he  seemed  re- 
signed to  his  fate,  and  next  morning 
he  was  even  more  cheerful  than  usual. 

'  Well,  got  to  run  now,"  he  said, 
jumping  up  at  the  end  of  one  of  his 
stories.  "  If  it's  fine  this  afternoon,  I'll 
bring  the  touring  car  around  and  give 
you  girls  a  ride.  By-by,  people!  By- 
by,  Priscil'  I " 

"There!"  thought  Mary,  beaming 
with  satisfaction.  "  I  knew  Aunt  Myra 
was  wrong  somewhere.  Just  as  if  a 
man  thought  of  nothing  except  his  ap- 
petite! Now  to-morrow  I'll  try  him 


90 


OH,  MARY.  BE  CAREFUL! 

But  at  this  point  Pearl,  the  colored 
maid,  came  hurrying  from  the  kitchen 
with  a  watch  in  her  hand. 

"  Is  Mars'  Richard  gone? "  she  said. 
"  He  done  left  his  watch  on  the  kitchen 
table." 

"  On  the  kitchen  table?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Brower  in  surprise.  '  Was  he  in  there 
this  morning? " 

'  Yas'm.  Had  his  cawfee  and  oat- 
meal afore  you  ladies  was  downl  " 

"  Did  he — did  he  have  any  cream  or 
sugar?  "  asked  Mary  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  Yas,  indeedy!"  chuckled  Pearl. 
"  Mars'  Richard  suttenly  made  out  for 
the  cream  and  sugar  he  didn't  have  yis- 
terday!" 

Whereupon  a  fourth  little  ache 
knocked  at  Mary's  heart  and  took  its 
place  with  the  other  three  which  had 
already  gained  admittance. 


01 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  How  well  Aunt  Myra  knew  them!" 
she  thought  as  she  packed  her  trunk 
next  day.  "They're— they're  dreadful!" 

For  the  moment  she  felt  like  little 
Red  Riding  Hood  walking  uncertainly 
along  among  a  pack  of  masculine 
wolves  —  staring  wolves,  tyrannical 
wolves,  wolves  that  looked  when  they 
shouldn't  have  looked,  wolves  that 
thought  of  nothing  but  their  dinners. 

She  was  almost  in  favor  of  giving  it 
up  and  going  back  home. 

'  What's  the  use  of  going  any  far- 
ther? "  she  thought.  "  They're  all  the 
same."  Then  the  old  Meacham  fight- 
ing strain  asserted  itself.  "  No,  sir!  " 
she  thought,  snapping  down  the  top  of 
her  trunk,  "  now  I've  started,  I'll  go 
right  through  with  it.  Then  when  I  get 
home  I  shan't  have  anything  to  re- 
proach myself  with.  I  shall  be  through 
with  them,  then — absolutely  through 
with  them — and  good  riddance  to  bad 

92 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

rubbish,  too!"  Which  was  somewhat 
involved,  but  I  think  you'll  gather  what 
Mary  meant. 

"  As  long  as  I  stay  single  I  can  laugh 
at  them  all,"  she  thought,  "and  I've 
only  got  two  more  places  to  go." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  this  independent  frame  of  mind 
she  journeyed  on  to  Putnam,  where 
Elizabeth  Woodward  lived,  Elizabeth, 
who  had  been  her  own  particular  chum 
at  Miss  Dana's  Seminary  for  Young 
Ladies.  It  didn't  take  Mary  long  to 
discover  that  Elizabeth's  brother  wasn't 
at  home  and  wouldn't  return  till  Friday. 

"Thank  goodness,  it's  only  Tues- 
day! "  she  thought.  "  For  a  few  days 
now  I  can  really  enjoy  myself." 

Whereupon  she  started  chatting  to 
Elizabeth,  and  you  may  rest  assured 
that  Elizabeth  started  chatting  back,  till 
they  sounded  like  a  pair  of  saucy  blue- 
jays  in  a  huckleberry  bush.  Then,  ac- 
cording to  the  immemorial  manner  of 
particular  friends,  they  tried  each  other's 
hats  on,  laughed  immoderately  over  a 

94 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

long  series  of  private  jokes,  made  a  tre- 
mendous lot  of  sticky  candy  which  poor 
Buster,  the  fox  terrier,  had  to  eat, 
nearly  had  convulsions  when  poor  Bus- 
ter couldn't  get  his  jaws  apart,  went 
shopping  and  to  the  "  movies,"  tried  to 
teach  each  other  how  to  whistle,  did 
each  other's  hair  "  in  the  very  latest 
style,  my  dear,"  made  two  exquisite 
little  aprons  (like  lace  handkerchiefs, 
they  looked,  trimmed  with  cherry-col- 
ored ribbons),  spoke  prettily  but  unin- 
telligibly to  each  other  in  seminary 
French,  and  felt  a  warm  gush  of  friend- 
ship in  their  hearts  every  time  they 
smiled  at  each  other. 

But,  as  Friday  drew  near,  Mary 
noticed  that  Elizabeth  grew  nervous. 

"  I  hope  Tom'll  be  in  a  good  temper," 
she  said.  '  You  mustn't  mind  if  he  acts 
a  little  offhand.  He  generally  comes 
home  tired,  you  know ;  but  of  course  he 
doesn't  mean  anything  by  it." 

95 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  For  the  land's  sake! "  breathed 
Mary  to  herself,  using  a  good  old  Con- 
necticut imprecation.  "  If  these  men 
aren't  the  limit!  I'll  have  to  keep  my 
eye  on  this  one.  He  seems  to  have  them 
scared  to  death." 

At  half -past  five  on  Friday  afternoon 
a  quick,  masterful  step  was  heard  com- 
ing up  the  veranda  steps,  and  a  moment 
later  the  door  slammed  open  and  shut. 
Mary  was  in  her  room  upstairs.  She 
tiptoed  to  the  door,  turned  up  her  eyes, 
and  immediately  became  all  ears  to  hear. 

"Mmm!"  she  thought.  "If  that's 
his  idea  of  being  nice  to  his  mother  and 
sister,  I'd  like  to  know  who  taught  him! 
Offhand,  is  he?  All  right!  Little  Mary 
can  be  offhand  tool  " 

And  so  when  Mary  went  down  to 
dinner,  it  might  almost  be  said  that  she 
went  down  with  her  nose  in  the  air  and 
a  chip  on  her  shoulder.  Tom  was  in  the 
sitting  room,  impatiently  reading  a  pa- 

96 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

per,  frowning  at  it  as  though  it  irritated 
him,  and  when  Elizabeth  introduced 
Mary  he  sharply  exclaimed :  "  Pleased 
to  meet  you,  Miss  MeachamI  Pleased 
to  meet  you!"  To  which  our  Mary 
made  no  reply  except  a  formal  bow. 

Throughout  the  dinner,  too,  she  stood 
on  her  dignity  toward  the  offhand  Mas- 
ter Thomas,  and  presently  he  began  to 
go  out  of  his  way  to  make  her  smile. 
Why?  Probably  because  life  often  has 
a  strange  trick  of  taking  the  form  of  a 
contest.  As  soon  as  Master  Thomas  saw 
that  here  was  a  girl  who  didn't  care  a 
button  for  him  or  his  dominating  ways 
either,  he  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  chal- 
lenge and  did  everything  he  could  to 
make  an  impression  on  her.  Wherefore 
he,  too,  was  turning  Mary's  music  be- 
fore the  evening  was  over,  and  the  next 
day  (which  was  Saturday)  he  followed 
Mary  around  with  such  devotion  that  it 

7  97 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

made  a  decided  sensation  in  the  Wood- 
ward family. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  to-day," 
he  said  on  Sunday  morning.  "  I'll  get 
a  car  and  take  Miss  Meacham  down  to 
New  London  and  back.  There'll  be 
room  for  one  other  on  the  front  seat." 
And  leaning  back  in  his  chair  he  looked 
at  Mary  across  the  table  with  a  look 
that  said:  "What  do  you  think  of  that!" 

The  Woodward  ladies,  mother  and 
daughter,  opened  their  eyes  in  the 
roundest  wonder  and  questioned  each 
other  mutely,  thus:  "What  has  come 
over  our  Tom? " 

"  I'd  rather  go  for  a  walk,"  said 
Mary. 

In  spite  of  himself  Master  Thomas 
frowned  a  little  at  seeing  his  suggestion 
received  so  lightly;  and,  seeing  that 
frown,  Mary  suddenly  blinked  her  eyes, 
thinking:  "  '  Every  man  is  a  tyrant  at 

98 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

heart  1*  Test  Number  Two!  All  right, 
I'll  try  him  on  that." 

'Wouldn't  you  rather  have  the 
ride?"  frowned  Master  Thomas. 

"  No ;  I'd  rather  have  the  walk." 

1  Very  well,"  he  said,  frowning  a 
little  more;  "  we'll  go  for  a  walk  then." 

They  set  off  at  a  good  pace,  as  though 
it  were  Master  Thomas'  idea  to  tire 
Mary  out  and  make  her  repent  of  her 
choice.  Before  long,  however,  he  him- 
self began  to  puff.  "  Let's  sit  down," 
he  said. 

"No;  let's  go  on,"  said  Mary.  "I 
like  to  walk  fast." 

They  went  a  little  farther,  and  Mas- 
ter Thomas'  frown  turned  to  a  scowl. 
"  It  would  have  been  better — to  have 
gone — to  New  London "  he  grum- 
bled. 

"  No,"  said  Mary.  "  This  is  better 
than  that." 

At   this   continued   reversal   of  his 

99 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

judgment    Master    Thomas    became 
huffy  and  sulked  openly. 

"  Just  because  he  can't  have  his  own 
way,"  reflected  Mary.  "  Yes,  Aunt 
Myra's  right  again.  *  Every  man  is  a 
tyrant  at  heart.'  Just  look  at  this  great, 
sulky  thing  here,  walking  along  with- 
out talking  to  me,  his  bottom  lip  stuck 
out  till  he  nearly  steps  on  it!  Well, 
there's  only  one  more  place  to  go,  and 
won't  I  be  glad  when  it's  over!  " 

The  last  visit  on  Mary's  list  was  with 
Deborah  Browning,  who  lived  in  Dan- 
ielson,  and  Mary  hadn't  been  off  the 
train  a  minute  before  Deborah  was  tell- 
ing her  about  the  picnic. 

"  There's  a  crowd  of  us  going  to 
Alexander  Lake  to-morrow,"  she 
crowed.  "  You're  just  in  time!"  And, 
being  a  very  talkative  little  Deborah  in- 
deed, she  continued :  "  The  girls  are 

just  crazy  to  know  why  Harry  hasn't 
100 


LOOK    A, -THIS    CHEAT.    SOUCT    T.U.M;    HKWS)    1IM    BorK)M 
MLtK    OUT    TILL   HE    .NEARLY    STEPS    OX    IT." 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

invited  anybody  yet,  but  of  course  he's 
going  to  take  you.  I've  told  him  all 
about  you,  and,  honestly  and  truly,  I 
do  believe  he's  fallen  in  love  with  you 
already.  But  don't  you  dare  to  tell 
him  what  I've  told  you,  Mary  Mea- 
cham!" 

She  promised,  of  course,  and,  while 
Deborah  chatted  away,  Mary  couldn't 
help  wondering  what  sort  of  man  her 
Last  Chance  would  be.  "  Wouldn't  it 
be  strange,"  she  thought,  "  if  I  found 
him  at  the  very  last  place!  He  must 
be  awfully  popular  to  have  the  girls 
crazy  to  know  who  he's  going  to  take 
to  the  picnic!"  (Shades  of  English 
grammar!  how  Miss  Dana  would  have 
shuddered  at  that!)  "Perhaps  he's 
one  of  those  nice  young  men  who  play 
the  mandolin  and  sing  ballads  like  they 
do  in  the  glee  clubs,"  she  thought.  "  I 

hope  he's  tall — and  has  brown  eyes — 
101 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

and  I  think  he  has  somehow — though 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why " 

Thus  Mary  dreamed  and  imagined 
vain  things  while  Deborah's  tongue 
kept  clicking  away  like  a  shuttle  in  a 
sewing  machine. 

But  the  moment  Mary's  eyes  rested 
on  brother  Harry  her  heart  went  down 
to  her  little  suede  shoes,  for  she  knew 
her  Last  Chance  had  failed  her.  "  If 
there's  one  thing  I  hate,"  she  thought, 
"it's  a  smirking  man!  I'll  settle  his 
case  quick!" 

Her  chance  came  at  dinnertime,  when 
they  had  muskmelon  for  dessert.  Mary 
always  sprinkled  hers  with  salt,  a  trick 
she  had  learned  from  Miss  Myra.  But 
when  Harry  Browning  came  to  his 
melon  he  covered  it  with  sugar,  smirk- 
ing across  at  Mary  as  he  did  so,  until 
she  almost  had  to  grit  her  teeth. 

"  Did  you  ever  try  salt  on  your  mel- 
on, Mr.  Browning? "  she  suddenly 
102 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

asked,  seizing  on  Test  Number  Three. 

"  Not  for  me,  thank  you,"  said 
Harry,  smirking  afresh. 

"  That's  funny;  I've  never  tried  su- 
gar. Let's  change  melons,  just  for  fun. 
I'll  eat  yours,  and  you  eat  mine."  So 
saying,  she  put  an  extra  layer  of  salt 
on  hers,  and  passed  it  over  to  the  pro- 
testing Harry. 

"  I  can't  eat  it,"  he  said. 

"  Try,"  said  Mary.  "  Please!  I'm 
going  to  eat  yours." 

He  pecked  it  a  little  with  his  spoon, 
getting  more  salt  than  melon,  but  when 
he  lifted  it  to  his  mouth  he  made  a  face 
like  one  of  those  old-fashioned  masks 
which  small  boys  used  to  wear  to  fright- 
en their  little  sisters. 

"  I  can't,"  he  said. 

"  Try,"  Mary  encouraged  him,  smil- 
ing sweetly  across  the  table.  "  Just  to 
oblige  me ! " 

Accordingly  he  made  a  few  more 

103 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

half -hearted  attempts,  but  anyone  could 
see  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to 
eat  it,  and  it  wasn't  long  before  he 
pushed  his  plate  back  with  that  gesture 
which  says:  "No  morel"  After  that 
he  ceased  to  smirk  at  Mary  for  the  time 
being,  but  looked  thoughtful  and 
moody,  as  a  young  man  will  generally 
look  when  he  feels  that  he  has  been 
cheated  out  of  his  favorite  dessert. 

"  They're  aU  alike,"  Mary  told  her- 
self that  night  as  she  lay  wide  awake, 
staring  up  into  the  dark.  "  And  to 
think  —  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Aunt 
Myra's  Tests,  I'd  have  given  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  for  one!  Fifty  thousand 
dollars  for  one! "  she  bitterly  cried  to 
herself.  "  Why,  I  wouldn't  pay  fifty 
cents  a  dozen!  There!  I  suppose  the 
only  reason  that  girls  get  married  is  be- 
cause they  buy  their  pig  in  a  bag — and 
when  they  wake  up  and  see  what  they've 

104 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

got,  why  then,  of  course,  it's  too  late  to 
change  it! " 

Her  thoughts  turned  to  the  picnic 
which  was  to  take  place  next  day,  and 
her  growing  scorn  of  man  gave  her  a 
really  tremendous  idea. 

"  Up  tiU  now,"  she  thought,  "  I've 
tested  them  one  by  one.  I  wonder  if 
there  isn't  some  way  I  could  do  it  whole- 
sale. Deborah  says  twelve  couples  are 
going,  and  most  of  the  men  are  engaged 
too.  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  them  to 
sit  like  a  class,  and  put  a  Test  to  the 
whole  twelve  at  once.  Wouldn't  it  be 
too  killing  for  anything!  " 

In  other  words,  having  bowled  Man 
over,  one  by  one,  Mary  had  worked  her- 
self into  a  state  of  mind  where  she  was 
planning  a  general  massacre.  She  lay 
awake  for  a  long  time,  perfecting  her 
plans,  smiling  to  herself  as  she  did  so, 
much  the  same  as  Miss  Myra  used  to 

105 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

smile  when  pasting  a  clipping  in  the 
current  Scrapbook. 

"  Yes,"  she  thought,  "  and  then,  while 
all  the  men  are  sitting  around,  I'll  read 
them  Whitman's  poem  about  Lincoln. 
And  right  there  at  the  very  place  where 
the  Captain  lies  dead  upon  the  deck,  I'll 
suddenly  look  up "  But  here  a  re- 
vulsion of  feeling  fell  over  her.  "  No, 
I  won't  1"  she  half  sobbed.  "I  know 
they'll  all  be  looking,  and  it's  bad 
enough  already." 

She  cried  then,  as  girls  have  cried  on 
their  pillows  since  time  immemorial; 
and  in  the  morning  she  prepared  her- 
self to  go  home.  "  I've  had  picnic 
enough,"  she  sighed,  "  I'll  have  to  make 
the  best  excuse  I  can  and  get  home 
quick — or  I  feel  I'll  break  down " 

She  looked  it,  too,  and  was  so  pale 
and  subdued  that  chatty  little  Deborah 
was  quite  frightened.  "  Don't  you 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

think  we'd  better  send  for  a  doctor, 
Mary? "  she  asked. 

"  No,  dear.  I — I  know  the  medicine 
I  want.  I'll  be  all  right,  if  I  can  only 
get  home." 

And  so  it  was  that  Mary  went  home, 
feeling  cold  and  trembly,  and  really 
not  far  from  being  ill.  Yes,  so  it  was 
that  Mary  went  home  from  her  Won- 
derful Search — that  Search  which  was 
to  have  vindicated  once  and  for  all  the 
Love  and  the  Honor  of  Man. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ON  the  train  one  of  the  men  across 
the  aisle  kept  ogling  her. 

"  If  he  only  knew  how  nauseated  it 
makes  me  feel,"  thought  Mary,  "  he 
wouldn't  do  it.'* 

And  again,  when  the  conductor  came 
and  gallantly  smiled  and  squared  his 
elbows  to  punch  her  ticket,  the  same 
feeling  swept  over  her. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  thought  Mary,  "  I 
won't  smile  back.  I  know  Mankind 
too  well!" 

She  got  off  the  train  at  Plainfield, 
the  sense  of  disillusion  still  hanging 
heavily  upon  her.  Instead  of  stepping 
lightly  into  Fred  Briggs'  livery  car,  she 
had  to  climb  in  as  though  the  spring  had 
gone  out  of  her  knees. 

"  I  feel  dead  somehow,"  she  thought, 
"  as  though  I  had  no  faith  or  enthusiasm 

108 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

left.  I  ought  to  feel  so  happy  at  get- 
ting home  again,  but  I  don't  at  all !  Oh, 
dear!  I  wonder  if  a  Girl  can  be  Too 
Wise  for  her  Own  Good!  I  wonder  if 
there's  such  a  thing  as  Knowing  Too 
Much!" 

The  car  labored  up  Black  Hill  until 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  old  Meacham 
homestead,  standing  so  nobly  among  its 
maples,  guarded,  as  ever,  by  the  eagle 
on  its  door — that  eagle  which  always 
looks  down  the  road  and  over  the  val- 
ley, poised  as  though  for  flight,  its  claws 
full  of  arrows  and  its  glance  menacing 
and  grim. 

They  turned  into  the  driveway  and 
Mary  felt  like  a  ship-wrecked  sailor 
who  sees  at  last  the  safe  and  peaceful 
haven.  "  How  good  it  all  looks !  "  she 
thought.  "  I've  a  mind  to  call  it '  Eden ' 
— because  it  will  be  an  Eden,  now  I've 
learned  enough  to  keep  the  serpents 
out!" 

109 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

From  which  you  can  form  your  own 
idea  of  the  state  of  Mary's  feelings  as 
she  jumped  out  of  the  car  and  entered 
the  house — a  house  which  had  kept  its 
doors  closed  to  Man  for  nearly  fifty 
years.  And  then,  just  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  Mary  thought  she  had 
reached  a  sure  refuge,  just  as  soon  as 
she  walked  in  the  door  of  her  own  house 
— what  did  she  find? 

She  found  the  place  overrun  by 
strange  men! — the  hall  rack  covered 
with  strange  male  headgear!  —  male 
voices  proceeding  from  the  bedrooms ! — 
and  last,  but  not  least  (as  she  found 
out  later) ,  a  young  man  upstairs  in  one 
of  the  beds!  Surely — surely — if  ever  a 
girl  was  justified  in  succumbing  to  a 
mortal  shock,  it  was  Mary. 

She  was  staring  and  listening,  open- 
mouthed  and  bewildered,  when  Ma'm 
Dubois  came  hurrying  down  the  stairs. 

"  Ah,  ma  cherie!  "  she  cried  in  her  deep 
no 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

notes,  "how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  I  I 
was  just  about  to  try  you  on  a  tele- 
phone." 

"  But,  Corinne, "  gasped  Mary, 
"  what — what — what  on  earth  is  it  all 
about? "  And  leading  Ma'm  Dubois 
out  of  hearing  she  whispered.  "  What 
are  all  these  men  doing  here?  " 

"  Ah,  Ma'm'selle,  they  are  here  be- 
cause of  the  fire." 

"  Fire?  "  demanded  Mary,  feeling  as 
though  her  reason  would  leave  her. 
"What— what  fire?" 

'  The  fire  which  is  out,  thanks  to  our 
noble  young  gallant !  But  come,  Ma'm'- 
selle, you  shall  see  for  yourself!  "  She 
led  Mary  to  the  back  of  the  house  and 
showed  her  a  place  on  the  roof  where  a 
great  hole  had  been  burned  out  among 
the  shingles.  "  As  Ma'm'selle  knows," 
began  M'am  Dubois,  while  Mary  start- 
ed up  horrified,  "  we  have  had  no  rain 

for  a  month  and  the  shingle  she  was 
111 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

dry.  Perhaps  a  spark  fell  from  the 
chimney — that  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  was 
ironing  and  watching  the  young  gentle- 
men bug  hunters  in  their  scrutiny  of 
the  trees " 

*  Watching  what,  Corinne?  " 

!<  Those  young  men  from  the  Govern- 
ment, eight  in  all,  I  think,  with  knap- 
sacks on  their  backs  like  any  soldier, 
who  search  the  trees  of  all  the  world 
for  the  tipsy  moth  and  the  tented  cater- 
pillar. You  remember  they  came  last 
year  and  asked  permission  to  drink  the 
water  from  the  well " 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"  So,  as  I  say,  Ma'm'selle,  I  was  iron- 
ing the  tablecloths  and  watching  one  of 
the  young  men,  who  had  come  around 
to  the  back  and  was  making  strange 
marks  upon  the  maples.  Suddenly  he 
stops  and  holds  up  his  nose  to  the  wind, 
looking  as  though  he  smell'  some  mys- 
tery which  he  does  not  greatly  admire. 

118 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

The  other  young  gentlemen  have  gone 
down  the  hill  to  the  chestnut  grove  and 
this  one  is  left  to  his  solitary.  He 
turns  around  with  his  face  on  high,  and 
suddenly  he  comes  leaping  to  the  door 
at  a  full  gallop.  '  Your  roof  is  on  fire  1 ' 
he  holler,  'Where  is  a  ladder!  Quick!' ' 

"  Oh!  "  gasped  Mary. 

"  I  take  him  to  the  stable,  but  the 
stable  she  is  lock'.  Ha!  He  breaks  a 
window  and  tumble  in.  He  push  the 
ladder  through  and  tumble  out  again. 
By  then  the  roof  she  is  crackling,  and 
I  think  to  myself,  'HSlast  It  is  done!'  " 

"Oh,  Corinne!"  cried  Mary;  and 
her  face  turned  pale. 

"  Heaven  be  thanked,  you  were  not 
here,  Ma'm'selle.  But  my  young  gal- 
lant he  put  the  ladder  to  the  roof,  and 
up  and  down  he  run  like  a  cat  with  a 
bucket  in  his  hand.  Up  and  down  he 
run,  Ma'm'selle,  but  it  is  too  slow!  The 
fire  it  advances  and  crackles  like  a  beast 

8  113 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

which  will  very  soon  roar!  Then  he 
dip  his  coat  in  the  water,  runs  up  again 
and  begins  to  beat  out  the  fire,  tearing 
out  the  shingles  with  his  hands  and 
throwing  them  down  to  the  grass,  where 
I  pour  a  leetle  water  on  every  each  I  " 

"Oh,  Corinne!" 

"Yes,  yes,  Ma'm'selle!  Thus  my 
young  gallant,  he  conquers  the  fire,  his 
hands  burn'  and  cut  with  the  nails,  his 
face  scorch'  and  black.  Carefully  then 
he  starts  to  come  down,  but  when  he 
reaches  his  foot  for  the  ladder,  that  ex- 
ecrable ladder  she  slip'  and  down  he 
come — all  of  a  piece,  Ma'm'selle,  and  lay 
on  the  grass — quite  dead!  " 

"  Corinne!  "  gasped  Mary  again,  her 
face  almost  as  white  as  the  collar  around 
her  neck. 

"  I  chafe  his  hands,"  continued  the 
admirable  Ma'm  Dubois,  chafing  her 
own  by  way  of  illustration.  "  No  use  I 
I  sprinkle  water  on  his  forehead.  No 

114 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

use!  But  when  I  try  to  turn  him  over, 
he  swear  a  leetle  and  then  I  see  he  is 
coming  back  to  the  life.  So  down  the 
hill  I  run  to  the  chestnut  grove,  where 
I  find  the  young  gentlemen  from  the 
Government  gravely  making  their 
marks  upon  the  trees  and  innocent  of 
disaster.  We  return  in  a  body,  losing 
no  time,  I  assure  Ma'm'selle ;  and  while 
one  of  them  telephones  for  the  doctor, 
the  others  they  carry  him  into  the  house 
— our  brave  young  hero !  There  I  have 
him  took  upstairs  because  I  think  to 
myself,  '  He  has  damage '  himself  in 
the  service  of  us,  and  the  least  we  can 
do  is  the  best.  I  think  to  myself,  '  If 
Miss  Mary  were  here,  she  would  do  no 
less.  I  cannot  leave  him  out  here  on  the 
grass,  for  all  the  world  to  see !' ' 

'  You  did  perfectly  right,  Corinne," 
said  Mary  earnestly.  "  But  what  did 
the  doctor  say? " 

:<  The  doctor  he  is  still  upstairs,  ap- 

115 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

plying  the  bandages.  Ha!  Here  he 
comes  now,  and  I  think  he  is  looking 
for  you." 

Doctor  Chase  joined  them,  and  took 
a  long  look  at  the  hole  in  the  roof  before 
doing  anything  else. 

"Well,  doctor,  how  is  he?"  asked 
Mary,  when  she  thought  he  had  looked 
long  enough. 

"  Oh,  pretty  well  shaken  up,  Miss 
Meacham.  He  had  a  bad  knock  on  the 
head,  but  I  don't  think  there's  any  frac- 
ture. Two  ribs  broken" — Mary  caught 
her  breath  at  that — "hands  burned,  face 
scorched,  but  I  think  he's  all  right  in- 
side— except  the  ribs  of  course."  Again 
the  doctor  looked  up  at  the  roof.  "  I 
suppose  he  can  be  moved  to  a  hospital," 
he  said,  "  if  you  don't  want  to  be  both- 
ered with  him  here." 

"  Bothered  with  him,  indeed!  "  cried 
Mary  indignantly.  "  He  didn't  mind 
'  bothering '  to  save  the  house  from  be- 

116 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

ing  burned,  and  I  guess  he  can  stay  here 
as  long  as  he  wants  to — and  no  '  bother ' 
about  it  either  1 " 

The  doctor's  eyes  twinkled,  but  ap- 
parently he  was  still  examining  the  hole 
in  the  roof.  "  Must  have  been  quite  a 
fire,"  he  said.  "  I've  made  him  as  com- 
fortable as  I  can,"  he  continued.  "  I'll 
get  a  nurse  and  be  back  this  afternoon. 
If  you'll  come  upstairs,"  he  said  to 
Ma'm  Dubois,  "  I'll  show  you  what  to 
do  till  I  get  back." 

"I'll  come  too,"  said  Mary;  "that 
is,  if  I  can  of  course,"  she  timidly  added. 

"  Come  right  along,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Nothing  to  fear.  I've  got  him  ban- 
daged till  his  own  mother  wouldn't 
know  him." 

Which  wasn't  exaggeration.  When 
Mary  entered  the  sick  room  all  she 
could  see  was  a  huge  cocoon  on  the 
pillow,  so  thoroughly  had  the  doctor 
bandaged  his  patient's  head,  scarcely 

117 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

leaving    openings    for    the    eyes    and 
mouth. 

"  I've  given  him  a  hypodermic,"  said 
the  doctor.  ;'  That'll  keep  him  quiet 
for  a  while.  When  he  wakes  up  give 
him  a  spoonful  of  this  every  half  hour, 
and  tell  him  not  to  move  any  more  than 
he  can  help.  That's  all  we  can  do  for 
the  present,  boys,  thank  you,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  two  young  men  who  had 
been  helping  him.  "  Better  introduce 
yourselves  to  Miss  Meacham  here,  and 
tell  the  others  downstairs  that  they  can 
go  on  with  their  bug  hunting.  No  more 
excitement  here  to-day."  Thus  the  doc- 
tor, brusque,  efficient,  inspiring  confi- 
dence with  every  word  he  said. 

However,  in  one  particular  he  was 
decidedly  wrong.  "  No  more  excite- 
ment here  to-day,"  he  had  said.  But, 
ohl  "  Suppose  he'd  been  killed!  "  Mary 
kept  thinking.  "  Or  suppose  he  hadn't 
been  here;  and  the  house  had  burned 

118 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

down!  Imagine  me  coming  home  and 
having  no  home  to  come  to!  Oh,  dear! 
I — I  guess  I  mustn't  be  too  hard  on 
the  men!  I — I  guess  they  have  their 
uses,  after  all!  Even  if  they're  not 
worth  marrying,  I  needn't  go  around 
thinking  mean  things  about  them." 


CHAPTER  IX 

MARY  took  turns  with  Ma'm  Dubois 
in  watching  the  patient,  sitting  in  a 
chair  by  the  window  and  feeling  as 
though  his  life  depended  upon  her 
watchfulness. 

About  two  o'clock  he  showed  signs 
of  restlessness,  and  then  there  was  more 
excitement  for  Mary.  "  Are  you 
asleep?"  she  whispered,  tiptoeing  to 
the  bed. 

The  patient  groaned  by  way  of  an- 
swer, and  you  can  imagine  how  Mary's 
heart  beat  then. 

'  You're  to  lie  perfectly  quiet,"  she 
said,  "  and  I'm  to  give  you  some  medi- 
cine." She  poured  out  a  spoonful  with 
a  shaky  hand.  "  Open  your  mouth, 
please,"  she  said,  and  found  her  voice 
shaky  too. 

120 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

The  cocoon  on  the  pillow  moved  a 
little,  and  an  indeterminate  cavern 
opened  among  the  bandages,  the  while 
two  eyes  were  fastened  on  Mary's  face. 

"Now!"  she  said,  and  the  spoonful 
of  medicine  disappeared  in  such  a  grati- 
fying manner  that  Mary  needed  noth- 
ing except  a  uniform  to  make  her  a  reg- 
ular nurse.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  ought 
to  talk  to  you,"  she  said,  "  but  you've 
no  idea  how  grateful  I  am  for  the  way 
you  saved  the  house." 

"  Sorry,"  said  the  cocoon  very  uncer- 
tainly. "  I  remember — ladder  slipped 
—  make  you  a  lot  of  trouble  —  my 
fault- 

"  No  trouble  at  all ! "  cried  Mary, 
and  nearly  added  "  It's  a  pleasure,"  but 
caught  herself  in  time.  '  We  mustn't 
talk  any  more,"  she  said ;  "  you've  got 
to  rest  and  be  quiet." 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  tip- 
toed to  the  bed  again.  (From  which 

121 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

you  can  see  that  Mary  wasn't  going  to 
let  him  die  through  lack  of  attention!) 
"  Are  you  asleep?  "  she  whispered. 

"  No." 

"  Then  open  your  mouth,  please." 

Again  he  took  his  medicine  and  again 
he  looked  at  Mary  through  his  band- 
ages. "  Am  I  hurt  much?  " 

"  Only  a  rib  or  two,"  said  Mary,  "and 
a  few  burns." 

'  You  can't  kill — good  man,"  he  be- 
gan, but  ended  "  Oh-o-oh!  "  which  sig- 
nifies a  groan. 

"  I'm  so  sorry!  "  mourned  Mary. 

"  It's  all  right.  Only  can't  smile — 
hurts  my  face.  Say!  " 

"  Yes?  "  said  Mary,  leaning  over  to 
listen. 

'  You're — awful  nice — nurse." 

Talk  about  excitement  for  Mary! 

And  when  the  doctor  returned  with 

the  regular  nurse  there  was  more  and 
122 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

more  of  it.  The  doctor  found  his  pa- 
tient's temperature  rising,  and  Mary 
didn't  like  the  looks  of  the  nurse. 

"That  hard-faced  thing!"  she 
thought.  "  I  know  I  wouldn't  want  her 
if  I  were  sick!  I'll  keep  my  eye  on 
her!" 

More  than  that,  Mary  kept  her  ear 
on  her.  Toward  midnight  she  heard  the 
patient  groaning. 

'  Why  doesn't  she  do  something  to 
ease  him!  "  thought  Mary,  sitting  up  in 
bed ;  and  suddenly  she  sat  up  very  erect 
indeed,  because  another  significant 
sound  was  accompanying  the  groans. 
"Oh,  oh!"  cried  Mary  to  herself,  "I 
can't  believe  it! " 

She  slipped  out  of  bed,  unconsciously 
selected  her  prettiest  kimono  and  slip- 
pers, and  stole  out  into  the  hall. 

'  Yes !  "  said  Mary  between  her  teeth. 
'  While  he's  groaning  she's  snoring! " 

And  in  less  than  half  a  minute  there 

123 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

was  a  very  wide-awake  and  indignant 
nurse  in  that  sick  room — indignant  not 
(as  you  might  suppose)  because  she  had 
been  caught  asleep  but  because  she  had 
been  accused  of  snoring! 

"  I'll  send  for  Mrs.  Ellison  to-mor- 
row," thought  Mary  as  she  slipped  back 
into  bed.  "And  I  don't  thank  Doctor 
Chase  for  bringing  that  Great  Snoring 
Thing,  either! " 

So,  bright  and  early  in  the  morning, 
Mary  telephoned  Fred  Briggs  to  go  to 
Tadpole  and  bring  Dame  Ellison;  and 
as  soon  as  Doctor  Chase  appeared  Mary 
spoke  to  him  very  nicely — in  a  manner 
which  reflected  great  credit  upon  Miss 
Dana's  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies. 
But  when  the  doctor  finally  caught 
Mary's  meaning,  he  understood  that  he 
was  being  asked  to  take  his  Snoring 
Nurse  away  to  make  room  for  home 
talent. 

In  short,  moved  by  her  solicitude  for 

124 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  patient,  Mary  put  a  ladylike  flea  in 
the  doctor's  ear;  and  when  the  doctor 
saw  the  nurse  and  began:  "  I  hear  you 

were  snoring  last  night "  the  nurse 

turned  around  and  put  a  rather  vulgar 
flea  in  the  doctor's  other  ear,  and  left 
him  standing  there  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment. 

The  nurse  disappeared  with  the  ar- 
rival of  Dame  Ellison — she  whom  I  in- 
terviewed last  summer  by  the  side  of 
her  well,  leaning  on  a  handmade  walk- 
ing-stick, her  hands  trembling  a  little 
on  the  handle  of  the  stick,  but  her  mind 
as  bright  as  any  button. 

"  We  nursed  him,"  she  told  me,  "turn 
and  turn  about,  me  and  that  old  French- 
woman with  the  scar  across  her  face — 
the  one  who  tried  to  pump  me  that 
morning  I  carried  Mary  up  to  Miss 
Myra's— and  we  had  to  look  after  the 
poor  lad  well,  'cause  one  of  his  ribs  had 
hurt  bis  lights  and  pleurisy  set  in.  We 

125 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

got  him  through  it,  us  and  the  doctor 
together;  and,  what  with  Mary's  cus- 
tards and  one  thing  and  another,  he 
soon  began  to  mend. 

"  It  didn't  take  me  long  to  see  that 
Mary  was  going  around  with  cheeks 
redder'n  they  might  have  been  and  eyes 
a  lot  brighter  too.  The  old  French- 
woman, she  see  it  as  well  as  me,  and 
shook  her  head  till  I  thought  it  would 
drop  off!  One  day  in  the  kitchen  I  up 
and  asked  her  why  she  shook  her  head 
so,  and  then  she  told  me  about  Miss 
Myra's  will.  'What?'  says  I,  nearly 
taken  off  my  feet,  '  Mary  loses  all  that 
money  if  she  marries? ' 

"  'Every  pen-nee  I '  says  she  in  her 
funny  French  way. 

'  My  lands ! '  says  I,  setting  down 
quick.  '  If  that  ain't  the  prettiest  kettle 
of  fish  I  ever  heard  tell  of! '  And  then 
I  remembered  the  way  Miss  Myra  was 
smiling  the  last  time  I  ever  see  her. 

126 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

*  No  wonder  you  smiled,  my  lady/  says 
I,  *  you  were  thinking  about  your  will. 
Why,'  says  I  to  the  old  Frenchwoman, 

*  that  girl  ain't  cut  out  to  be  an  old  maid 
any  more'n  she's  cut  out  to  be  an  old 
soldier.     She'll  have  to  marry  a  rich 
man:  that's  all.'" 

'  Yes,  yes,'  says  the  old  French- 
woman, '  but  this  young  man  upstairs 
he  has  no  money.  Already  he  has  told 
the  doctor  to  keep  his  bill  down  as  low 
as  possible.  He  says  he  has  nothing 
but  what  he  carries  and  not  very  much 
of  that!'" 

It  seems  that  Dame  Ellison  was  still 
staring  at  Ma'm  Dubois  when  Mary 
came  running  into  the  kitchen  for  a  cus- 
tard she  had  set  to  cool;  and  never  in 
all  her  life  had  she  looked  happier  than 
she  looked  that  minute.  "  No,  sirl  " 
thought  Dame  Ellison.  "  I'll  sit  back 
and  say  nothing!  I  never  see  anything 
yet  that  could  stand  against  nature,  and 

127 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

I  won't  mix  in  it  either  road.  For  all 
we  know,  this  young  man  may  be  tied 
up  somewhere  else,  but  he  certainly  eats 
a  powerful  lot  of  custards !  " 

He  did  indeed.  And  a  strange  thing 
about  his  fondness  for  custard  was  this : 
He  liked  only  those  which  Mary  made. 

Ma'm  Dubois  made  a  custard  one 
day,  but  he  left  more  than  half  of  it. 
"  Not  like  yours,"  he  whispered  to 
Mary,  which  was  one  of  the  things  that 
made  Mary  color  with  pleasure  like  a 
young  peach  tree  in  full  bloom. 

Dame  Ellison  also  tried  her  hand  at 
a  custard,  but  he  hardly  tasted  it.  "  Too 
much  nutmeg,"  he  whispered  to  Mary. 
"  Not  like  yours." 

So,  after  that,  Mary  tcok  sole  con- 
trol of  the  manufacture  of  custards  on 
Black  Hill;  and  from  this,  of  course, 
it  was  only  a  step  to  the  point  where 
she  fed  the  patient  as  well.  In  the  first 
place  he  couldn't  hold  his  own  spoon 

128 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

because  of  his  bandaged  hands;  and  in 
the  second  place  Mary  always  looked 
after  him  while  Ma'm  Dubois  and 
Dame  Ellison  were  having  their  meals 
in  the  kitchen. 

Perhaps  you  can  image  the  scene  for 
yourself. 

There  was  the  patient  lying  in  bed. 
And  there  was  Mary  with  the  custard. 

First  she  propped  him  up  a  little, 
but  very  carefully,  on  account  of  his 
fractured  ribs;  and  sometimes,  when 
she  was  doing  this,  his  arm  would  un- 
consciously reach  up  and  rest  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  Poor  things !  "  Mary  would  think. 
"  How  helpless  they'd  be  if  it  wasn't 
for  us,"  and  a  wave  of  motherly  tender- 
ness would  warm  her  heart. 

Then  she'd  begin  to  feed  him,  and 
you  can  imagine  whether  he  told  her 
how  good  it  was,  and  you  can  imagine 
whether  they  looked  at  each  other,  and 

9  129 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

what  they  said,  and  what  they  didn't 
say,  and  why  they  sometimes  smiled 
with  their  eyes,  and  why  they  some- 
times looked  at  each  other  very  solemnly 
indeed,  immediately  thereafter  speaking 
in  voices  which  were  none  too  steady. 

And,  when  the  custard  was  finished, 
you  can  imagine  how  gently  Mary  un- 
propped  him  and  asked  him  if  he  felt 
better,  and  you  can  imagine  what  he 
said  and  how  he  said  it,  and  whether 
or  not  (as  soon  as  she  was  gone)  he 
began  to  look  forward  to  the  next  cus- 
tard! 

This  went  on  for  about  a  fortnight, 
and  then  one  noon  Dame  Ellison  went 
down  into  the  kitchen  on  the  broad  grin, 
and  winked  her  eye  at  Ma'm  Dubois. 
"  It  won't  be  long,"  she  said,  facetiously 
pointing  to  the  ceiling  with  her  thumb. 

It  pleased  Ma'm  Dubois  to  effect  a 
density  which  was  foreign  to  her  nature. 

130 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  What  won't  be  long?  "  she  coldly  in- 
quired. 

;<  Those  two  young  uns,"  beamed  the 
other.  "  He's  been  watching  the  clock 
since  half -past  ten,  and  the  minute  she 
went  in  the  room  their  eyes  glued  to- 
gether as  if  they'd  never  let  go.  It 
won't  be  long,  I  tell  you.  You  mark 
my  words! " 

"  What!  "  cried  Ma'm  Dubois,  "  you 
think  she  will  throw  all  her  money  away 
for  him? " 

"  She  won't  be  the  first." 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  you  must  warn  her. 
She  will  listen  to  you." 

"  Not  I !  If  she's  got  spunk  enough 
to  shut  her  ears  to  the  money,  I'm  sure 
she  won't  listen  to  me.  Let  nature 
alone,  say  I.  Money  ain't  everything. 
Why,  if  I'd  had  all  the  money  in  the 
world  fifty  years  ago,  when  I  lost  my 
little  girl,  I'd  have  given  every  cent  of 
it  to  have  her  back  again." 

131 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  For  a  leetle  girl,  yes.  But  a  hus- 
band, he  is  different.  It  was  a  hus- 
band, for  example,  who  left  me  this 
souvenir.  And  I  say  it  is  wicked — yes, 
wicked! — to  let  this  poor  child  run  in 
with  blindfold'  eyes  and  lose  every  dol- 
lar she  has  in  the  world." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do? " 
demanded  Dame  Ellison.  '  You've 
lived  long  enough  to  know  that  it's  no 
use  talking  in  a  case  like  this.  Why, 
my  folks  talked  me  deaf,  dumb  and 
blind  against  marryin'  Abner  Ellison, 
but  I  went  right  on  and  married  him 
just  the  same — a  little  sooner,  if  any- 
thing. So  what  are  you  going  to  do, 
I'd  like  to  know?  " 

'  What  am  I  going  to  do?  "  repeated 
Ma'm  Dubois.  '  You  ask  me  what  I 
am  going "  Suddenly  she  felt  si- 
lent, because  a  really  clever  plan  had 
entered  her  mind  at  that  very  moment. 

132 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  Don't  you  fret  yourself  what  I  am 
going  to  do,"  she  concluded  with  a  mys- 
terious nod  of  her  head.  "  I  know!  I 
am  not  like  the  leetle  pig's  tail,  which 
goes  all  the  day  and  does  nothing!  I 
know  what  I'm  going  to  do ! " 


CHAPTER  X 

AT  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Mary  had 
discovered  many  an  interesting  fact 
about  her  invalid.  Bit  by  bit  he  had 
come  out  of  his  bandages — a  terribly 
exciting  process  for  Mary.  '  Yes ;  he's 
really  handsome! "  she  thought  with 
satisfaction.  "  I'm  so  glad  he's  not  one 
of  those  pretty  men!"  From  which 
you  can  draw  your  own  conclusions. 

For  my  part,  I  believe  in  the  saying 
that  Handsome  is  as  Handsome  Does, 
and  Mary's  hero  certainly  had  a  pair 
of  honest  brown  eyes  and  a  capable 
chin.  Mary  had  also  discovered  that 
his  name  was  William  Morgan,  that  he 
was  a  graduate  of  Storr's  Agricultural 
College,  that  he  had  no  relations  but  a 
brother  in  Oregon,  and  that  he  was 
desperately  fond  of  chicken  stew.  So 

134 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

then,  of  course,  Mary  graduated  from 
custards  and  took  up  the  study  of 
chicken  stew. 

She  was  feeding  him  with  a  spoon  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  band- 
ages came  off  his  hands  (I  mention  this 
day  particularly  because  it  was  one  of 
the  three  most  important  days  in 
Mary's  life).  "Do  you  like  it?"  she 
asked. 

"Mmmmm!" 

"  I  made  it  myself." 

"  That's  what  makes  it  so  good." 

Mary  smiled  with  her  lips,  but  her 
eyes  looked  serious.  "Did — did  your 
mother  make  it  like  this?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  remember 
her  at  all." 

"  That's  funnjV  said  Mary,  thought- 
fully stirring  the  stew,  "I  don't  re- 
member mine."  She  gave  him  another 
spoonful.  "  Do  you  ever  feel  lonesome  ? " 

"  I  used  to.    Especially  at  Christmas 

135 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

and  holidays,  and  times  like  that.  But 
I'll  tell  you  one  thing — I've  never  felt 
lonesome  since  I've  been  here." 

For  some  strange  reason  then  they 
began  looking  at  each  other,  intently, 
solemnly,  as  though  they  were  saying 
something  with  their  eyes,  and  didn't 
know  what  it  was  except  that  it  was 
something  so  moving  that  it  almost 
'made  them  tremble. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  shave,"  he  said. 

Thus  the  Sublime  stepping  down- 
stairs! But  Mary  didn't  notice  its  de- 
scent. "You're  all  right  the  way  you 
are,"  she  earnestly  assured  him. 

"If  I  could  only  brush  my  hair  I 
wouldn't  feel  so  helpless,"  he  said.  "  But 
with  my  hands  bandaged  like  this " 

Smiling,  humming  a  low  note,  Mary 
put  down  the  empty  dish  and  went  to 
the  bureau.  There  she  found  a  brush 
and  comb  and  returned  to  the  bed, 
moved  by  an  irresistible  whim  to  play 

136 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Little  Mother.  "If  you'll  be  good," 
she  said,  "  I'll  do  your  hair." 

But  first  she  had  to  prop  him  up  a 
little  higher,  his  bandaged  hand  resting 
on  her  shoulder  for  a  moment  in  that 
helpless  way  which  always  touched  her 
heart.  And  for  the  next  five  minutes 
she  brushed  his  hair,  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other,  while  they 
laughed,  chatted  and  looked  at  each 
other — both  unconscious  that  the  won- 
derful miracle  of  love  was  taking  place. 

"There,"  said  Mary,  putting  her 
head  on  one  side  and  admiring  her  work. 
"  I  don't  think  I  can  improve  on  it." 

Not  only  that,  but  Ma'm  Dubois  was 
heard  coming  up  the  stairs. 

"Mary,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice — it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  called 
her  Mary,  and  her  heart  played  her  one 
of  the  queerest  tricks — "  listen!  I  want 
to  whisper  something." 

Ma'm  Dubois  was  at  the  head  of  -die 

187 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

stairs,  but  Mary  had  her  ear  down  to 
his  mouth  in  less  than  no  time. 

"You're  the  sweetest  girl  in  the 
world ! "  he  whispered.  .  .  . 

When  Ma'm  Dubois  came  in,  a  mo- 
ment later,  Mary  was  clear  at  the  other 
side  of  the  room  gathering  the  dishes  to- 
gether, her  cheeks  like  geraniums,  her 
eyes  like  two  bouquets  of  dewy  forget- 
me-nots.  She  picked  up  the  dishes — 
Ma'm  Dubois  watching  her  with  a 
mournful  countenance;  and  though  she 
walked  to  the  door  sedately  enough, 
just  before  she  disappeared  she  gave  the 
forward  Mr.  Morgan  such  a  health-giv- 
ing smile  that  it  was  all  he  could  do  to 
keep  from  following  the  example  of  that 
historic  invalid  mentioned  by  Saint 
Mark,  the  one  who  picked  up  his  bed 
and  walked. 

He  restrained  himself,  however,  but 
felt  so  full  of  happiness  that  he  simply 
had  to  share  it  with  someone,  and  that  is 

138 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

how  he  began  his  fateful  conversation 
with  Ma'm  Dubois. 

It  didn't  take  him  long  to  notice  that 
the  more  gayly  he  chatted  the  more 
mournful  she  grew.  The  more  he  joked 
the  more  she  sighed.  "I  know  what's 
the  matter  with  you,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Your  beau's  gone  off  with  another 
girl." 

" La-la!"  cried  Ma'm  Dubois  in  high 
indignation.  "You  t'ink  I  would  be 
such  a  fool  at  my  time  of  the  life?  No, 
no,  m'sieurl  Three  times  have  I  ex- 
perience' matrimony,  and  each  time  has 
the  mustard  been  put  upon  my  nose." 

"  You  didn't  get  hold  of  the  right  one. 
You  should  have  tried  a  fourth." 

"  Poo-poo !  They  are  all  the  same — 
except  indeed  that  some  are  worse," 
added  Ma'm  Dubois  thoughtfully.  She 
took  a  long  breath  then  and  launched 
her  attack.  "  That  reminds  me,  m'sieur," 
she  said,  "  of  a  matter  which  should  be 

139 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

called  to  your  attention.  We  have  took 
care  of  you,  we  have  nurse'  you,  we  have 
show*  you  every  confidence.  But  I  be- 
gin to  fear  it  would  have  paid  Miss 
Mary  if  her  house  had  burn'  to  the 
ground." 

"Why — what — what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  what  I  say,  m'sieur!  You 
save'  the  house,  I  know.  But  I  begin 
to  fear  you  will  charge  Miss  Mary  fifty 
thousand  dollars  for  doing  it — and  I 
leave  it  to  you  if  that  isn't  too  much  of 
a  bill  for  your  service ! " 

"Fifty  thousand  dollars!"  gasped 
Mr.  Morgan,  propping  himself  up  on 
his  elbows  without  any  outside  help. 
"  Why,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean? " 

Whereupon,  of  course,  Ma'm  Dubois 
told  him  about  Miss  Myra's  will.  "  So 
you  see,  m'sieur,"  she  concluded,  "to 
save  the  house  from  burning,  it  was  a 
gallant  affair.  But  to  make  it  cost  Miss 

140 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Mary  fifty  thousand  dollars — la-la! — 
you  think  it  is  a  reasonable  or  obliging?" 

"Great  Scott!"  groaned  the  young 
man  in  the  bed.  "  Why  should  I  make 
it  cost  her  fifty  thousand  dollars?" 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say,  m'sieur.  But 
for  me,  I  have  not  lived  so  many  years 
for  nothing.  And  when  I  came  in  the 
room  just  now,  I  say  to  myself:  'La-la! 
He  is  taking  that  poor  child's  money, 
just  the  same  as  if  he  robbed  it  from 
her  bank.'" 

"Don't  you  worry  about  that," 
groaned  the  young  man  again.  "I'm 
not  going  to  steal  anything — or  rob  any- 
body. Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  on  my 
feet  I'll  clear  out  of  here.  And  I  guess 
it  won't  be  long  either." 

He  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  every 
bit  of  happiness  having  suddenly  left 
his  life.  Whether  or  not  he  thought  of 
Mary,  I  shall  leave  you  to  guess. 

One  thing  I  will  tell  you  though.    In 

141 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

the  sitting  room  downstairs  Mary  was 
certainly  thinking  of  him.  "  How  funny 
it  is,"  she  thought  to  herself.  "There 
I  went  all  over  looking  for  one — and 
when  I  got  back  he  was  right  here  in 
my  own  house,  waiting  for  me!  .  .  . 
And  though  I'll  lose  the  money  I'll  have 
him — and  that's  better  than  being  a 
lonesome  old  maid  all  my  life.  No,  sir! 
He'll  never  be  a  Scrapbook  Husband! 
No  need  to  try  the  Tests  on  him ! " 

She  rocked  herself  in  her  chair,  and 
presently  found  herself  looking  at  an 
old  photograph  of  Miss  Myra  which 
hung  by  the  side  of  the  piano.  The 
picture  looked  back  at  her  with  that  air 
of  ironic  sadness  which  sometimes  used 
to  fall  over  Miss  Myra  in  her  gentler 
moods.  And,  as  Mary  rocked  herself 
and  looked  at  the  photograph,  it  almost 
seemed  to  phrase  certain  questions  and 
objections  which  were  vaguely  wander- 
ing around  in  Mary's  mind — questions 

142 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

so  vague  that  at  first  Mary  was  uncon- 
scious of  them;  objections  so  wandering 
that  in  a  very  short  time  they  might 
have  been  utterly  lost. 

"No  need  to  try  the  Tests  on  him?" 
the  picture  seemed  to  say  with  its  air  of 
ironic  sadness.  "  Why  not  ? — pray  tell !" 

"Because  he  would  pass  them,"  said 
Mary  half  aloud. 

"  Then  why  not  try  him? "  the  picture 
seemed  to  say. 

At  this,  Mary  rocked  herself  very 
energetically  and  had  no  answer  to 
make. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  test  him? "  asked 
the  picture. 

"  No;  I'm  not! "  cried  Mary. 

"  Then  why  don't  you? " 

Again  Mary  rocked  herself,  and  again 
she  could  find  no  satisfactory  answer  to 
these  vague  questions  and  objections 
which  were  (although  she  didn't  know 
it)  the  last,  lingering  echoes  of  Miss 

143 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Myra's  teachings.  "  Of  course  he  would 
pass  the  Tests ! "  she  stoutly  told  herself. 

"You're  afraid  to  try  him  just  the 
same,"  the  picture  seemed  to  say.  "  Be- 
sides, it's  a  reflection  on  him  if  you  don't 
give  him  the  Tests.  You're  showing 
you  can't  trust  him." 

"But  I  do  trust  him!"  said  Mary, 
stopping  her  chair,  indignant  with  her- 
self even  for  thinking  such  a  thing. 

"  Then  test  him,"  came  the  answering 
thought. 

Mary  arose,  determined  to  silence 
these  cavilings  once  and  forever.  "All 
right!"  she  cried,  "I  will!  This  very 
day!" 

It  was  rather  slowly,  though,  that  she 
went  to  her  room  and  dressed  herself 
for  the  afternoon;  and  it  was  almost 
with  downright  reluctance  that  she  took 
those  famous  "  Gems  of  Poetry  "  from 
her  chiffonier. 

Dame  Ellison  was  in  Tadpole  that 

144 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

day,  having  received  news  of  a  blown-in 
window ;  so  Mary  and  Ma'm  Dubois  had 
the  patient  to  themselves. 

"  His  heart  is  as  pure  as  mine,"  Mary 
told  herself,  looking  out  over  the  valley. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  answering 
thought ;  "  then  you've  nothing  to  fear." 

Nevertheless  Mary's  feet  moved  very 
slowly  as  she  approached  the  invalid's 
room. 


CHAPTER  XI 

I'LL  sit  with  Mr.  Morgan  now,  Co- 
rinne,"  Mary  said  in  an  uncertain  tone 
as  she  entered  the  invalid's  room.  "  You 
can  go  on  with  your  ironing." 

Ma'm  Dubois  arose — not  displeased 
to  get  away  from  that  morose  figure  on 
the  bed — and  Mary  slipped  into  her 
chair.  It  was  a  pleasant  wicker  chair 
with  tapestry  cushions,  and  when  Mary 
seated  herself  in  it,  crisp  and  cool  in  her 
blue  taffeta,  you  would  have  to  go  a 
long  way  that  summer  day  to  have 
found  a  prettier  picture. 

;<  You're  very  quiet,"  said  Mary,  mov- 
ing her  chair  a  little  in  order  to  have 
an  unobstructed  view. 

At  this  he  turned  his  head  and  tried 
to  smile.  "How  pretty  she  is!"  he 

146 


OH,  MARY.  BE  CAREFUL! 

sadly  told  himself.  "I've  got  to  hold 
myself  in  tight — and  get  away  quick! 
That's  what  I've  got  to  do! " 

"Do  you  want  anything?"  asked 
Mary. 

"No;  thank  you." 

"  You're  sure  you  wouldn't  like  a  cus- 
tard? One  of  Mary  Meacham's  own 
make?" 

"  No,  thank  you,"  he  managed  to  say. 
And  to  himself  he  added  with  a  sinking 
heart :  "  I've  got  to  hold  myself  in  tight 
-tight— tight!" 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Mary.  "I'm 
going  to  read  you  some  poetry.  You 
like  poetry?" 

"Yes." 

"  Mr.  Chatterbox  likes  poetry.  Very 
well,  sir." 

At  this  point  Mary's  own  heart  be- 
gan to  sink,  and,  with  a  troubled  glance 
across  the  room,  she  timidly  pushed  out 

147 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

one  of  her  feet  until  perhaps  half  an 
inch  of  blue-silk  stocking  showed  under- 
neath the  hem  of  her  skirt.  "  Oh,  don't 
— don't  look!"  was  the  thought  of  her 
heart.  "Oh,  please  don't  look  I" 

(Thus  the  effect  of  Age  upon  Inno- 
cence! Thus  the  workings  of  Miss 
Myra's  Wisdom!) 

Across  the  room  the  young  man  be- 
came dimly  conscious  of  that*  narrow 
band  of  shimmering  blue  and  fixed  his 
glance  on  the  wall  just  above  Mary's 
head.  "I  mustn't — mustn't  look!"  he 
told  himself.  "  I  mustn't  look! " 

"  Now  this  poem,"  began  Mary  in  a 
trembly  voice,  "is  entitled  *  Footsteps 
of  Angels,'  and  was  written  by  Henry 
Longfellow  Wadsworth" — from  which 
you  can  see  how  nervous  Mary  was! — 
"  I  hope  you'll  like  it,"  she  sighed. 

Slowly,  hesitatingly,  she  raised  the 
book  in  front  of  her  eyes,  and  began: 

148 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

When  the -hours  of  Day -are  numbered 
And  the  voices  of  the  Night 

Wake  the  better  soul,  that  slumbered, 
To  a- holy,  calm  delight 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  thought,  taking  a 
full  breath,  "I  hope  he  isn't  looking!'* 
But,  not  having  the  courage  to  glance 
over  the  top  of  her  book,  she  continued: 
Ere  the  evening  lamps  are  lighted, 
And,  like  phantoms  grim  and  tall, 
Shadows,  from  the  fitful  firelight 
Dance  upon  the  parlor  wall 

Unable  to  bear  the  suspense  any 
longer,  she  nervously  lowered  the  book. 
Mr.  Morgan's  eyes  were  stolidly  fixed 
on  the  wall  just  above  her  head! 

A  great  wave  of  relief  swept  over 
Mary  and  left  her  warm  and  weak.  She 
raised  the  book  again: 

Then  the  forms  of  the  departed 

Enter  at  the  open  door; 
The  beloved,  the  true-hearted, 
Come  to  visit  me  once  more  — - — 

149 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Again  she  suddenly  lowered  the  book, 
and  again  she  found  her  auditor's  glance 
immovably  fixed  upon  the  wall  just 
above  her  head. 

And  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
something  strange  that  I  can  only  call 
it  inexplicable,  something  so  queer  that 
I  would  call  it  incredible*  if  I  didn't 
know  it  was  really  so.  As  soon  as  Mary 
saw  the  second  time  that  Will  Morgan 
wasn't  looking  and  apparently  hadn't 
the  least  idea  of  looking,  a  great  fear 
fell  upon  her  and  she  thought:  "Oh, 
dear!  I  wonder  if  he  doesn't — care — 
for  me — af ter  all ! " 

Why  was  this? 

I  cannot  tell  you.  Why  does  the 
Princess  wear  a  diamond  necklace  when 
she  expects  to  see  Prince  Charming? 
Why  does  the  poor  girl  wear  a  pretty 
ribbon  in  her  hair  when  that  nice  young 
groceryman  comes  for  the  order? 

And  if  Prince  Charming  rides  along 

150 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

and  never  deigns  to  glance  at  the  neck- 
lace— nor  the  one  who  wears  it — do  you 
suppose  the  Princess  is  overcome  with 
pleasure  ? 

And  if  the  groceryman  never  looks 
at  the  ribbon  in  the  poor  girl's  hair,  but 
keeps  his  eyes  fixed  over  her  head  and 
talks  of  nothing  but  the  price  of  prunes, 
do  you  think  the  poor  girl  dances 
around  the  kitchen  with  delight  as  soon 
as  he  goes  away? 

"Oh,  dear!"  thought  Mary,  the 
warm  wave  passing  away  and  a  cold 
one  taking  its  place,  "I  wonder  if  he 
doesn't  care — for  me — after  all ! " 

Whereupon  she  put  her  foot  out  a 
little  farther  and  continued: 

He,  the  young  and  strong,  who  cherished 

Noble  longings  for  the  strife, 
By  the  roadside  fell  and  perished, 

Weary  with  the  march  of  life ! 

151 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Again  she  glanced  over  the  top  of 
her  book,  and  still  his  eyes  were  fixed, 
trancelike,  on  the  wall  above  her  head. 
"I  must  hold  myself  in  tight — tight — 
tight!"  he  was  thinking. 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed  Mary,  "  I'm  sure 
he  doesn't  care ! 

She  was  almost  on  the  point  of  push- 
ing her  foot  out  farther  yet,  when  that 
old  fighting  spirit  of  the  Meachams 
came  to  her  rescue.  "No,  sir!"  she 
thought.  "If  he  doesn't  want  to,  he 
doesn't  have  to!" 

In  the  same  spirit  she  finished  the 
poem,  giving  a  challenging,  defiant  tone 
to  the  last  verse,  which  it  would  have 
done  you  good  to  hear: 

Oh,  though  oft  depressed  and  lonely. 

All  my  fears  are  laid  aside, 
If  I  but  remember  only 

Such  as  these  have  lived  and  died ! 
152 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

She  sharply  verified  the  fact  that  his 
glance  was  still  over  her  head. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  she  asked. 

'Yes,"  he  answered  in  a  flat  voice, 
"  very  much." 

"  I  think  Corinne  is  calling.  I  must 
go  and  see." 

i  Instead,  of  course,  she  went  straight 
to  her  own  room;  and,  after  carefully 
closing  the  door,  she  threw  herself 
across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  in  that  immemorial 
posture  which  I  have  already  men- 
tioned. 

For  a  long  time  her  shoulders  shook ; 
but,  whatever  she  might  have  been  do- 
ing when  she  started,  she  was  laughing 
more  than  crying  when  she  finally  sat 
up  and  looked  through  the  window  at 
the  smiling  valley  below. 

'  What  a  goose  I  am!  "  she  thought. 
"  I'd  have  cried  if  he  looked,  and  here 

153 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

I've  been  acting  like  this  because  he 
didn't  take  any  notice.  Anyhow  I've 
proved  Aunt  Myra  was  wrong,  and 
that's  the  main  thing.  I — I'm  sure  he 
likes  me,  or  he  wouldn't  have  whis- 
pered the  way  he  did  just  before  Ma'm 
Dubois  came  in  the  room  this  morning. 
So  now  I'll  go  on  proving  Aunt  Myra 
wrong — and  then,  of  course,  if  he  goes 
on  liking  me " 

Whereat  Mary  arose  and  took  a 
handglass  to  the  mirror  to  see  if  her 
face  was  marked  with  any  permanent 
scars  of  grief.  If  anything,  the  few 
tears  she  had  shed  had  simply  served  to 
freshen  her  beauty,  as  a  summer  shower 
will  often  brighten  the  view. 

"  I  don't  think  I'll  frighten  him,"  she 
smiled  at  her  reflection.  "  But  how  can 
I  give  him  the  other  two  tests?  How 
can  I  prove  he  isn't  a  tyrant?  And 
how  can  I  prove  that  he  doesn't  care 

154 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

what  he  eats?  ...  I  know!"  she  sud- 
denly exclaimed.  "Euchred  custard!" 

Almost  before  you  could  say  "Snip!" 
she  was  back  in  the  sick  room,  moving  a 
chair  here,  pulling  down  a  blind  there, 
looking  as  though  butter  wouldn't  melt 
in  her  mouth,  her  queenly  little  head 
held  so  innocently  upon  her  shoulders 
that  you  would  never  have  dreamed  that 
she  was  playing  the  part  of  Wisdom 
and  was  about  to  apply  the  Second  and 
Third  Degrees  to  Man. 

"You're  sure  you  won't  have  any 
custard? "  she  asked,  carelessly  straight- 
ening the  things  on  the  bureau. 

"  Quite  sure,  thank  you,"  said  he;  and 
to  himself  he  thought:  "I  simply 
couldn't  hold  back  any  longer  if  she 
ever  fed  me  again!" 

"It  wouldn't  be  any  trouble,  you 
know,"  said  Mary. 

"  It's  all  right,  thank  you.  I  simply 
couldn't  eat  it." 

155 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  I  made  it  myself,"  she  coaxed. 

He  groaned  to  himself.  "No,  no," 
he  said.  "I— I'm  full  up.  I  haven't  a 
bit  of  room,  thank  you." 

"All  right,"  beamed  Mary,  "I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

She  left  the  room,  as  innocently  as 
you  please;  but  as  soon  as  she  reached 
the  hall  she  fairly  flew  downstairs  and 
into  the  kitchen.  From  the  refrigerator 
she  took  a  saucerful  of  custard  and 
sprinkled  it  with  pepper,  vinegar  and 
salt! 

"Now,"  she  thought,  tasting  it  and 
finding  it  horrible,  "  we'll  soon  see  if  he's 
a  tyrant,  and  we'll  soon  see  if  his  appe- 
tite is  superior  to  his  love ! " 

She  stopped  at  the  hall  table  to  put  a 
flower  in  her  hair,  and  half  a  minute 
later,  still  carrying  that  atrocious  cus- 
tard, she  stopped  at  her  room  to  put  a 
little  powder  on  her  nose.  These  de- 
tails attended  to,  she  again  entered  the 

156 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

sick  room,  her  queenly  little  head  set  so 
innocently  upon  her  shoulders  that  if 
you  had  seen  her,  you  would  probably 
have  thought  to  yourself:  "Why,  what 
does  this  child  know!" 

Smilingly,  charmingly,  Mary  ap- 
proached the  bed,  carrying  that  horrible 
custard  as  though  it  were  something 
precious. 

"I've  got  it!"  she  joyfully  whis- 
pered; and  (never  taking  her  eyes  off 
him)  she  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  But  I  don't  want  any,"  he  said,  and 
to  himself  he  thought :  "  If  I  don't  get 
away  from  here  mighty  soon,  I'll  never 
be  able  to  get!"  And  descending  to 
the  vigor  of  unconscious  slang  he  added : 
"I've  got  to  beat  it  quick!" 

"  Shall  I  prop  you  up? "  asked  Mary. 

"  No,  no !  I  can  get  up  with  my  el- 
bows, thank  you."  He  did  it,  too,  to 
show  he  meant  it. 

Simultaneously  Mary  held  out  to  him 

157 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

a  spoonful  of  custard,  leaning  over 
breathlesly  while  she  did  so,  her  eyes 
like  those  dew-kissed  forget-me-nots  to 
which  I  have  already  alluded,  her  lips 
slightly  parted  with  excitement. 

It  was  thus,  I  think,  that  Circe  exer- 
cised her  wiles. 

It  was  thus,  no  doubt,  that  Saint 
Anthony  was  tempted  at  Fayum. 

"  If  she  starts  coaxing,  I  can  see  my 
finish,"  he  thought;  "and,  anyhow,  I'll 
soon  be  gone." 

So,  keeping  his  glance  most  carefully 
on  her  chin  (not  daring  to  look  in  her 
eyes),  he  opened  his  mouth  and  Mary 
popped  in  the  custard,  triumphantly 
crying  to  herself:  "  Hurrah!  He's  not 
a  tyrant!  He's  passed  Number  Two! " 

"  It  tastes  funny,"  thought  Mr.  Mor- 
gan, "  but  I  won't  say  anything  to  hurt 
her  feelings.  .  .  .  How  pretty  her  chin 
is  ...  like  white  velvet  underneath 
.  .  .  only  whiter  .  .  .  and  softer  ..." 

158 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  Do  you  like  it?"  asked  Mary,  giving 
him  another  spoonful. 

"Fine!"  he  said,  and,  finding  it 
wasn't  safe  to  look  at  her  chin  any 
longer,  he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
her  mouth  instead. 

"The  prettiest  mouth!"  — he  began; 
but,  feeling  that  this  was  dangerous 
ground,  he  shifted  his  glance  to  her 
nose  and  dutifully  swallowed  a  third 
spoonful. 

" You're  sure  you  like  it?"  asked 
Mary  in  rare  delight. 

"It— it's  great!  "he  said. 

To  himself  he  added:  "I  guess  she 
spilt  the  salt  or  something  in  it,  but  I 
won't  say  anything  to  hurt  her  feelings. 
.  .  .  Her  nose  looks  like  candy.  .  .  . 
I  never  knew  noses  could  look  like  can- 
dy before.  .  .  .  ' 

And  then,  simply  because  he  couldn't 
help  it  any  longer,  his  glance  slipped 

159 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

up,  and  he  found  himself  looking  deeply 
into  Mary's  eyes. 

"  Hello! "  she  whispered. 

He  felt  such  an  urgent  temptation  to 
let  himself  go,  that  quite  involuntarily 
he  made  a  face. 

"Don't  you  like  it?"  asked  Mary. 

In  ludicrous  haste  he  opened  his 
mouth  for  the  last  spoonful. 

"There!  He's  passed  all  three  Tests !" 
thought  Mary,  almost  in  awe  as  she 
watched  him  swallow  it.  Aloud  she 
said:  :c You're  a  dear,  good  patient! 
'And  now  you've  had  that,  you  can  have 
anything  you  like." 

The  temptation  came  to  him  again. 

"I  could  make  her  a  living,"  he 
thought.  "  I  could  make  a  good  living 
farming  this  place,  and  it  ought  to  be 
farmed  too.  But  to  think  she'd  lose 
fifty  thousand  dollars !  And  an  orphan 
too!  No,  sir!  I'm  not  going  to  make 
her  lose  her  money." 

160 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

At  this  point  he  groaned  aloud. 

"I'm  so  sorry  it  hurts  you  yet," 
mourned  Mary.  "Let  me  help  you 
back  on  your  pillow." 

With  her  instinct  of  mothering  him 
she  leaned  over  and  curved  her  arm  un- 
der his  shoulders,  and  quite  as  un- 
consciously one  of  his  bandaged  hands 
slipped  around  her  neck.  As  you  will 
understand,  this  brought  their  faces 
close  together,  and  suddenly  Mary  saw 
the  tears  come  to  his  eyes. 

"Am  I  hurting  you?"  she  quickly 
whispered. 

"N-no,"  he  gulped.  "  It— it  isn't 
that." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"I— I  can't  tell  you." 

'Yes,  do  tell  me,"  she  whispered, 
half  guessing. 

And  moved  by  a  force  which  he  could 
control  no  longer,  he  whispered  back, 
almost  with  fear:  "I  love  you." 

11  161 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Very  solemnly,  then,  they  kissed  each 
other. 

And  what  they  might  have  said  next 
I  cannot  say,  because  just  at  that  mo- 
ment they  heard  the  doctor's  car  in  the 
yard,  and  the  spell  was  broken. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"I  MUST  go  and  see  Judge  Adams 
this  afternoon,"  thought  Mary  in  her 
room  a  few  minutes  later.  "Perhaps 
if  we  don't  get  married  till  after  the 
first  of  January,  I  shall  have  next  year's 
income." 

As  you  will  see  from  this,  Mary  had 
one  of  those  straight-forward  minds  to 
which  a  kiss  and  a  declaration  of  love 
mean  as  much  as  a  written  proposal  of 
marriage. 

So  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  that 
she  didn't  hear  the  conversation  which 
was  going  on  in  the  other  room. 

"  Say,  doctor,"  began  young  Mr. 
Morgan,  "when  do  you  think  I'll  be 
able  to  sit  up  ? " 

"  Oh,  any  time  now.  Better  stay  in 
bed  another  day  or  two  though." 

"  I  see.  .  .  .  And  say,  doctor,  I  want 

163 


OH,  MAKY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

you  to  leave  these  bandages  off  my 
hands.  I've  got  to  write  a  letter  this 
afternoon.  .  .  .  And  say,  doctor,  what 
do  I  owe  you?" 

"Don't  know,"  said  Doctor  Chase, 
looking  at  him  curiously.  "Haven't 
made  my  bill  up  yet.  But  look  here, 
young  man,  what's  all  the  hurry  about? 
Aren't  you  comfortable  here?" 

"Oh,  yes;  very  comfortable,  thank 
you."  But  to  himself  he  was  thinking: 
"I'll  send  him  my  address,  and  he  can 
mail  me  the  bill." 

He  heard  Mary  start  off  toward 
Plainfield  with  the  doctor. 

"I'll  never  have  another  chance  like 
this,"  he  thought,  watching  them 
through  the  window.  "  Lucky  I  know 
my  clothes  are  in  this  closet." 

He  slowly  dressed  himself,  nearly 
falling  over  a  time  or  two.  "  I'll  soon 
feel  better  though,"  he  kept  telling  him- 
self. 

164 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

But  when  he  sat  down  to  write  his 
letter  to  Mary,  he  had  to  rest  a  few 
minutes  with  his  eyes  shut,  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind,  but  feeling  that  his 
bones  had  turned  to  water. 

At  last  he  managed  to  write : 

Dear  Mary:  On  thinking  it  over,  I  am 
going  to  run  away.  I've  only  just  heard 
about  your  aunt's  will. 

If  I  stayed  any  longer  I'd  be  asking  you 
to  throw  all  that  money  away  for  me;  and 
afterward  I'd  never  forgive  myself.  I'm  not 
worth  it  and  never  shall  be.  The  only  thing 
I'm  wealthy  in  is  love  for  you. 

I  love  you  too  much  to  ask  you  to  make 
such  a  sacrifice  for  a  poor  dub  like  me.  I 
shall  never  marry,  but  shall  think  and  dream 
of  you  always.  If  you  ever  need  a  friend,  let 
me  know.  Yours  ever, 

WILLIAM  MORGAN. 

P.  S.  I  will  write  the  doctor  to  send  me 
his  bill.  , 

165 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

He  started  downstairs  then,  to  tele- 
phone the  livery  stable.  Half  way  down 
he  happened  to  draw  a  full  breath  and 
the  pain  in  his  chest  nearly  made  him 
shout. 

"  I've  got  to  be  careful,"  he  thought, 
"or  I'll  be  flopping  over,  and  she'll 
came  back  and  find  me.  I  wonder 
where  she  went." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CURIOUSLY  enough,  Mary  was  think- 
ing about  him  at  that  same  moment. 
She  had  found  Judge  Adams  in  his 
office  in  the  town  hall  engaged  in  a  labor 
of  love;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  leaning 
over  a  table  and  making  up  a  genealogi- 
cal chart  of  one  of  our  local  families. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  he  said,  straightening 
himself,  "How's  everything  on  Black 
Hill? " 

"All  right,  thank  you,"  answered 
Mary,  hardly  knowing  how  to  begin. 

They  both  sat  down.  The  judge  was 
smiling  at  her  in  a  quizzing  sort  of  way, 
as  old  men  will  sometimes  smile  at  a 
girl,  and  that  didn't  help  Mary  any. 

Moreover,  like  many  of  the  old-tim- 
ers in  our  part  of  New  England,  the 
judge  seldom  took  the  initiative  in  con- 

167 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

versation  when  anyone  called  on  him. 
He  was  there  to  listen  to  what  they  had 
come  to  say,  and  so  fast  had  this  habit  of 
silent  waiting  grown  upon  him,  that  un- 
consciously he  applied  it  to  Mary  too. 

Many  a  girl,  I  think,  would  have 
gone  away  with  her  questions  unasked ; 
but,  when  Mary's  uneasiness  reached 
a  certain  point,  the  old  Meacham  spunk 
asserted  itself  and  it  came  sharply  to 
her  mind  that  the  way  to  begin  a  thing 
was  to  begin  it. 

"  I've  called  to  ask  you  something 
about  Aunt  Myra's  will,"  she  said. 

"Ah-ha!"  said  the  judge,  sitting  up 
very  straight  indeed. 

"If  I  get  married,  of  course,  the 
Feeble-Minded  Girls  get  everything 
except  the  house?" 

"So  the  will  provides,"  nodded  the 
judge.  "And  ultimately  they  get  that." 

"Well,"  said  Mary,  "what  I  want 
to  know  is  this:  If  I  get  married  next 

168 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

January,  would  I  get  all  the  income  for 
next  year?  Or  would  I  only  get  the 
January  income?" 

"Good  for  Mary!"  cried  the  judge, 
his  eyes  dancing  behind  his  spectacles. 
"  So  you've  finally  decided  to  get  mar- 
ried, eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  lose  that  very  comfortable  for- 
tune?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Absolutely  committed  to  it,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  a  girl  you  are!"  laughed  the 
judge,  throwing  back  his  head  till  Mary 
couldn't  see  much  of  him  except  his 
white-bearded  throat.  "I  always 
thought  you'd  be  a  match  for  Miss 
Myra!  It's  that  young  man  up  at  the 
house,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Suddenly  becoming  businesslike  the 
judge  went  to  the  safe  in  the  corner  of 

169 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

his  room  and  took  from  it  an  envelope 
addressed  in  Miss  Myra's  spidery  hand- 
writing: 

"  To  Mary  Meacham.  This  letter  to 
be  given  her  on  the  day  her  Engage- 
ment is  announced.  Or  as  soon  there- 
after as  possible." 

Wonderingly  Mary  opened  it,  and 
wonderingly  she  read: 

Dear  Mary:  I  am  sorry  for  you — so  sorry 
that  I  shall  try  to  help  you. 

I  have  done  all  I  'Can  in  my  will  to  keep 
you  single.  At  least  you  must  love  the  man 
very  much  to  be  willing  to  sacrifice  so  much 
money. 

But  now  I  must  tell  you  something. 

There  is  no  Penobscot  Home  for  Feeble- 
Minded  Girls.  That  was  only  a  fiction  to 
keep  you  from  marrying. 

So,  as  Judge  Adams  will  tell  you,  you  will 
still  have  everything,  whether  you  marry  or 
not,  because  you  are  my  next  of  kin. 
170 


THE    JUDGE    WENT    TO    THE    SAFE  AND    TOOK    FROM    IT  AN  EN- 
VELOPE   ADDRESSED    IN   MISS    MYRA's    SPIDERY    HANDWRITING 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

But,  oh,  Mary,  be  careful!  You  know 
what  I  went  through. 

Did  you  try  the  Three  Tests  on  him?  If 
riot,  do,  before  it's  too  late. 

With  love,  although  when  you  read  this,  I 
shall  be  no  more. 

Your  affectionate 

AUNT  MYRA. 

Mary's  eyes  blurred.  But  a  few  min- 
utes later,  when  she  seated  herself  in 
Fred  Briggs'  livery  car,  her  eyes  were 
bright  enough. 

'  You  only  just  caught  me,  Miss 
Meacham,"  piped  Freddy.  "  Somebody 
up  at  your  house  wants  to  catch  the  five- 
fifteen.  I  was  getting  ready  to  start 
when  you  'phoned." 

"  I  wonder  who  it  is,"  thought  Mary ; 
"  one  of  the  neighbors,  I  guess." 

She  didn't  think  anything  more  ahout 
it  (having  plenty  to  think  about  with- 
out that)  till  they  turned  in  at  the  house 
on  the  hill. 

171 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

And  there,  sitting  on  the  rail  of  the 
veranda  with  his  back  toward  them, 
Mary  saw  a  masculine  figure,  evidently 
waiting  for  the  car. 

"I  wonder  who  it  is,"  she  thought 
again. 

But  the  moment  she  jumped  from 
the  car  she  knew  very  well  who  it  was. 

Without  speaking,  she  held  out  her 
hands  to  help  him  up.  And,  still  with- 
out speaking,  she  led  him  inside. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked 
in  a  low  voice,  which  trembled  a  little. 

"I'm  running  away,"  he  answered 
in  just  the  same  sort  of  a  voice. 

"  Running  away  from  what? " 

"From  you."  ' 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you'd  lose  that  money  if — 
if There's  a  letter  on  my  pillow." 

"Who  told  you  about  the  money?" 

"Ma'mDubois." 

"When?" 

172 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"  This  noon." 

"Oh!  And  that's  the  only  reason 
you're  running  away?  Because  of  the 
money?" 

"  Don't,  Mary!    You  know  it  is." 

"  All  right,  then! "  laughed  Mary,  her 
voice  shaking,  but  this  time  with  a  dif- 
ferent vibration.  :<  You  read  this,  and 
I'll  go  up  and  read  yours." 

She  ran  upstairs,  and  when  she  had 
read  his  letter  her  eyes  blurred  for  the 
second  time  that  afternoon.  She  went 
to  her  room,  then,  and  changed  her 
dress  to  the  white  tulle  with  the  black 
velvet  bands,  because  something  told 
Mary  that  one  of  the  most  memorable 
events  in  her  life  was  about  to  take 
place,  and  naturally  she  wished  to  be 
dressed  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

When  she  went  downstairs  Master 
William  was  on  the  veranda  again,  look- 

173 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

ing  over  the  valley;  and  behind  him, 
looking  straight  at  him,  was  that  eagle 
on  the  door — that  eagle  with  his  claws 
full  of  arrows  but  his  glance  no  longer 
menacing  and  grim.  Indeed  in  the  mel- 
low light  of  the  sunset  you  might  easily 
have  imagined  that  eagle  to  have  been 
a  Cupid  discharging  his  arrows  with  an 
energy  that  made  up  for  lost  time. 

"I'll  wait  for  him  here,"  thought 
Mary,  and  she  seated  herself  in  her 
favorite  chair  in  the  library — the  chair 
near  the  western  window,  where  Miss 
Myra  had  sat  and  watched  the  sunsets 
for  so  many  lonely  years. 

"Dear  Aunt  Myra!"  thought  Mary. 
"How  glad  she  would  be  if  she  could 
know  that  I've  found  a  Good  One  after 
all!" 

From  the  desk  she  drew  the  little  red- 
covered  book  which  had  started  her  on 
her  famous  Search  for  a  Good  Young 

174 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

Man.  She  began  to  read  it,  shaking 
her  head  with  satisfaction  when  she 
came  to  the  Three  Teats. 

As  Mary  read  she  unconsciously 
crossed  her  knees,  a  modest  inch  of 
stocking  becoming  exposed  to  view — 
oh,  not  half  so  much  as  a  man  will  show 
when  he  wears  low  shoes  1  She  sat  fac- 
ing the  door  and  gradually — through 
that  sixth  sense  which  all  girls  have — 
she  became  aware  that  someone  was 
standing  in  the  doorway  watching  her. 

Mary  suddenly  lowered  the  book,  and 
there,  framed  in  the  doorway,  was  Mas- 
ter William,  if  you  please,  and  he  was 
looking  .  .  .  looking  .  .  .  looking  .  .  . ! 

"Oh!"  gasped  Mary,  putting  both 
Her  feet  on  the  floor,  "  I  didn't  know  you 
were  there !  "  And  again  she  gasped 
"Oh!"  And  once  more  "  Oh!  " 

"Mary! "  he  said,  speaking  her  name 

175 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

as  though  it  was  the  most  beautiful  mu- 
sic in  the  world. 

"  Go  away ! "  said  Mary. 

"  Never  again ! "  said  he. 

"Yes,  you  will!" 

Instead,  he  advanced  toward  her  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  something 
important  to  do. 

"  He  doesn't  mind  me  a  bit,"  thought 
Mary,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 
"  Aunt  Myra  was  right!  He's  a  Tyrant 
too!" 

The  Tyrant  had  reached  her,  and  had 
gently  taken  her  hands. 

"Mary!"  he  whispered. 

"Go  away!"  said  Mary  in  a  muffled 
manner. 

He  bent  over  her,  and  somehow 
Mary's  hands  slid  from  her  face  and 
around  his  neck. 

"Is  there  any  place  in  Plainfield 
where  I  can  get  a  ring?"  he  asked  at 
last. 

176 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

"N-no,  dear,"  said  Mary.  "You 
— you'll  have  to  go  to  Norwich 
for  that " 

And  that  night,  when  Mary  lay 
awake  in  her  room  too  happy  to  go  to 
sleep,  reviewing  the  events  of  her  Won- 
derful Day  and  finding  pleasure  in 
them  all,  her  thoughts  kept  turning  to 
Miss  Myra  and  the  Three  Tests. 

"Dear  Aunt  Myra!"   she  thought 
once.     "I'm  sorry,  but  .    .    .  you  see 
we  have  to  take  them  the  way  we  find, 
them.  .  .  .  There's  really  no  other  way 
that  I  can  see." 

And  again: 

"Dear  Aunt  Myra!"  she  thought. 
"Of  course  some  marriages  are  miser- 
able, but  perhaps  it  isn't  the  man's  fault 
— always." 

And  the  third  time,  she  slipped  out 
and  knelt  by  the  side  of  her  bed,  as 

12  177 


OH,  MARY,  BE  CAREFUL! 

girls  have  slipped  out  and  knelt  since 
time  immemorial: 

"Oh,  Lord!"  she  prayed,  "please 
keep  him  from  being  a  Scrapbook  Hus- 
band— and  me  from  being  a  Scrapbook 
Wife!  .  .  .  Please  make  me  good  .  .  f 
and  make  me  happy.  .  .  .  Oh,  please, 
Lord,  do!  .  .  .  Amen." 


